


State of Fire

by fallingyoonjin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Blood and Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Slow Burn, Yakuza!Sakusa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingyoonjin/pseuds/fallingyoonjin
Summary: Atsumu has a list of all the times he’s almost died titledHow to always get involved in shit even when you mind your own business by Miya Atsumu: A Complete Guide.He started it when he was eighteen and in the following six years, the list has gained closer to thirty entries.After an assassination attempt that comes a little too close for comfort, Miya Atsumu gets assigned a glorified babysitter to protect him - except this babysitter doesn't even like him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 155





	1. Rich Young Boy

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know i had to write something for my favorite trope ever: bodyguard!sakusa in a yakuza setting. that's some superior shit right there.

Atsumu has a list of all the times he’s almost died titled _How to always get involved in shit even when you mind your own business by Miya Atsumu: A Complete Guide._ He started it when he was eighteen and in the following six years, the list has gained closer to thirty entries.

That’s what you get for being the son of a former Yakuza kumicho, apparently. Never mind that his father has been six feet under for years now. It’s crazy how many people a man who’s not even alive can piss off. Personally, Atsumu just wants to stop waking up to a gun trained on his forehead every few weeks.

He’s not even that involved in the business of MSBY, has never even shot a person. So how the fuck does he keep getting targeted when Osamu is right there, his body count probably in the hundreds?

“Have you ever considered that the reason is just that?” his brother likes to tell him every time he complains about it. “You can’t fight for shit and your intimidation levels are – and I know you’re not gonna like to hear it – close to zero. You’re an easy target, simple as that.”

And okay, maybe that’s true. It’s pretty common knowledge – apparently, considering how everyone seems to know it – that Atsumu isn’t like the others in the business. And yeah, it’s Atsumu’s own fault for deciding to opt out, but _still._ There’s no reason to target him specifically. It hurts his feelings.

The latest attempt on him was the biggest one yet. Usually they just try to hold him hostage to coerce Kita into obeying them – not that it ever works, in the end their brains always get splattered – and his life is never really in danger. This time there were no warnings, no demands, no nothing except someone trying to shoot him in broad daylight.

It’s a good thing he wasn’t alone: Osamu had caught sight of the gunman just in time and slammed Atsumu to the ground before any bullets could hit him. The perpetrator was gone by the time Bokuto and Meian had arrived, so now they have absolutely no idea what the situation is.

Which brings them to this moment.

Kita stares at him with an even gaze, not wavering even when Atsumu huffs and whines and throws the velvet pillows on the leather sofa to the floor. He lets him work through his tantrum, probably way too used to his antics after fifteen years of dealing with him.

They’re not alone in his ridiculously huge office. Osamu sits on Atsumu’s left, throwing disapproving glances his way, Bokuto and Hinata share another couch in front of them, Meian sits on the windowsill and Sakusa is leaning against the wall, blending to the background effortlessly.

Maybe Atsumu should feel embarrassed of having an audience while he kicks one of the pillows on the floor over for good measure, but these are all men who have known him for years and experienced more than enough of his dramatics.

Atsumu finally sits back and defiantly crosses his arms. He tilts his chin up. “You can’t just assign me a bodyguard. I’m twenty-four years old, don’t I get a say in all this?”

Kita exhales patiently, having explained all this already. “You almost got gunned down in broad daylight yesterday, Atsumu. You almost _died._ I think I am well within my rights to assign you a bodyguard, with or without your consent.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” Atsumu retorts. “I’ve almost died multiple times. I actually have a list if you want to see. The point is-“

“The point,” Kita interrupts, “is that for some reason, instead of targeting you for petty, trivial things such as ransom, you almost got assassinated. A wildly different matter, and if you can’t see that for yourself, you’re not as smart as you claim to be.”

Atsumu pinches his mouth shut and glares at the kumicho weakly. He knows, okay, he knows that yesterday was different. Even if he was stupid, which he’s not, the panicked way Osamu had called Kita while shielding Atsumu’s body with his own told him all he needed to know.

Still, the idea of having someone shadow him 24/7 for God knows how long doesn’t sit right with him. He wants to argue further, but the serious glint in Kita’s eyes shuts him up. Kita may be almost like a father figure to him, but before he’s that, he’s the head of a major crime syndicate. Atsumu might have special privilege in MSBY, but even he knows better than to seriously defy the kumicho.

He slumps down and huffs. “Fuckin’ fine. Who’s the lucky guy then?”

Kita smiles in satisfaction and leans back in his chair. “Wouldn’t call either of you lucky. It’s Sakusa.”

Atsumu stares at him for a long second before groaning and shaking his head. “Nah. Nah, Kita, not him. Anyone else. Literally anyone else.”

He glances at Sakusa, cold and expressionless under his mask like always. Really, the only times he’s seen him react is when he pisses him off. Which is often. In fact, he’s pretty sure Sakusa’s eyebrow just twitched.

Kita’s smile turns sharp, just a fraction. It still makes Atsumu quiet down. “He’s the best I have. See, Atsumu, I’ve let you get away with a lot and always listened when you told me you didn’t need extra protection. I thought maybe the attacks would die down after some time, but obviously that hasn’t happened.”

He crosses his arms across his chest and levels a serious look at Atsumu. “Your safety is the biggest priority right now. I made a promise to your father that I would never let you get hurt, and I’m planning on keeping that promise. Sakusa will be guarding you until things calm down and that’s final.”

Atsumu closes his eyes and counts to ten. Great. He and Sakusa have never gotten along, their personalities clashing violently. Sakusa was quiet and prickly while Atsumu liked to live big. It’s not like they spend that much time together, with Sakusa doing important business for Kita and Atsumu staying far from things like that.

It doesn’t stop Atsumu from bothering Sakusa every time they pass each other in the hallways or making faces at him during meetings that he’s technically not allowed to be at. He can tell Sakusa tries not to take the bait, but every now and then he bites back, snapping sharp insults to his face. It delights him as much as it hurts him; Sakusa has the uncanny ability to dig deep with his jabs.

He opens his eyes to find Kita having a discussion with Bokuto and Hinata about something he doesn’t really care to know about. Osamu is still sitting next to him, eyeing Sakusa who hasn’t moved from his position next to the wall.

“He really is the best, ya know,” he says casually.

Atsumu glares at him. “Aren’t ya supposed to be on my side?”

His twin directs a drily amused glance at him. “When have I ever been on your side, ‘Tsumu?”

He huffs. “Why do I get the babysitter? You’re a Miya too, you also have a target on your back. In fact, why can’t you be my bodyguard? Wait, Kita-”

Osamu yanks his hand down and squeezes his wrist until he hisses. “Shut up. Don’t ya think he’s considered all options? I’m good, but I’m not the best.”

He nods at Sakusa’s direction, who does a very good job at acting like he’s not hearing everything. “He is. And right now, he’s your best bet at staying alive.”

..

Atsumu stomps to his apartment angrily, all too aware of the man silently following him. Every time he turns around to see if he’s still there, Sakusa meets his glare with an unreadable gaze. Huffing, he shoves his keycard into the slot and types out the five-numbered password.

“You know,” he says to Sakusa as he pushes the door open, “I don’t see a reason for you to sleep in my house, we’re on MSBY turf. In fact, ‘Samu’s apartment is like right there.”

“Osamu-san’s apartment that he never uses,” Sakusa says in an inflectionless voice. “And you almost got shot on MSBY turf. Don’t think that really matters at this point.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Atsumu motions at his house. “Make yourself at home, I guess. That’s your room there.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before beelining for his room. The one good thing about all this is that his apartment is actually gigantic. The guestroom is on the other side of it, plenty of space between them. He sends a quick thank you to his dad for leaving a huge inheritance for him. And Osamu, but he doesn’t like to flaunt it, choosing to save it instead and use it “smartly”. So he says.

He likes frowning at Atsumu every time he comes home with flashy, expensive things. There was the time he spontaneously bought a horse, but then Kita had taken one look at it and forced him to return it. That was a hassle and a half, because apparently you can’t just return horses anytime you want, but in the end it had only taken one thinly veiled threat from Meian and the issue was settled.

(“If you want to go horse-riding,” Kita had told him in an exasperated manner like he was ten years old, “you can just ask and I’ll take you. Better yet, I’ll rent out a whole stable for you, but you can’t just buy a horse and bring it to the city, you idiot.”)

Whatever, Atsumu scoffs as he tugs off his jeans and switches them to comfortable shorts. If they didn’t want him to spend his money, why do they give him so much, then? Their fault, not his.

After he’s done changing his clothes and texting Osamu five paragraphs of middle finger emojis, he leaves his room. The house is quiet, the only sounds he hears are his own bare feet slapping against the shiny porcelain tiles.

“Yoo-hoo, Omi-kun, are you still here?” he sing-songs, the natural urge to annoy Sakusa trumping his annoyance. It’s like an instinct, at this point.

As he nears the kitchen, he hears a suffering sigh. A-ha, gotcha ya little sea urchin. He slides around the corner and beams at the man, who is pointedly not turning around, instead focusing on the contents of his fridge.

Atsumu frowns. Hello, attention? He shuffles closer, peering over Sakusa’s shoulder to see what he’s staring at.

“Whatcha looking at? Nothing interesting, I suppose.”

Sakusa’s grip on the fridge handle tightens and he turns his head to stare at Atsumu. His eyes are impossibly dark, not giving anything away even as his brows pinch slightly together at their proximity. “Yes, that is precisely the problem. Do you have anything here that isn’t energy drinks or expired eggs?”

Atsumu frowns and cranes his neck to look at the carton of eggs on the highest ledge. “Aw fuck, they expired? I was gonna make breakfast with them.”

Sakusa blows out a breath and closes the door when the fridge starts beeping in protest. “Somehow I don’t trust you to make breakfast, not even something as simple as an omelette.”

“Scrambled eggs, actually, they’re better,” Atsumu corrects and steps back when Sakusa actually starts looking peeved. “And I’m actually a great cook. Just give me the right ingredients and voilà.”

He gasps and snaps his fingers. Sakusa has started rummaging through his cupboards. “Grocery shopping! Omi, we should go grocery shopping!”

“Yes, that was the plan. Though, I was thinking of sending someone else, or going alone.” He eyes Atsumu critically. “Don’t know if letting you go outside is the best course of action, considering.”

Atsumu huffs and leans back against the granite counter. “I can’t just hole myself inside forever. We don’t even know if it’ll happen again. Could’ve been a lone incident, ya know.”

Sakusa doesn’t even grace that with a response, just gives him a look that speaks for itself, and continues picking through his noodle packets. Hey, don’t judge, he usually just goes out to eat. Most of his stuff here is just comfort food for when he watches movies at night.

Somehow he doubts Sakusa is the kind of person who’d approve of that kind of thing. That’s fine, Atsumu can definitely appreciate home-made food. That is, if he could actually make any. See, he lied earlier, he can’t cook for shit.

Getting orphaned at fourteen does that to a person. Sure, the Black Jackals immediately promised to take care of them, just like they’ve done since they were born, but there are things mobsters can’t or don’t realize they have to teach to kids.

And Kita is just seven years older than the twins and had just been appointed the new kumicho, so he had his hands full without having to add teaching them to cook on the list.

That means Atsumu has lived off of take-out, restaurant food and whatever measly thing he manages to make himself for years now. It’s not a problem, he has enough money to afford it, and he did refuse a nanny – thought he was too old for one – so it’s fine. Sometimes he sits alone on his kitchen floor and stares at his cold noodles and wishes things were different, but it’s still fine. He’s fine.

“Pleaseee, Omi-Omi,” he pouts and gives his best puppy dog eyes even though Sakusa isn’t even watching. “Let me come shopping with ya?”

He can see Sakusa’s jaw clenching and then unclenching and then clenching again before he straightens, closes the cupboard and speaks. “Fine. But you will stay close to me at all times, _no running off_. And you have to do whatever I tell you. Got it?”

Atsumu nods his head furiously and grins brightly. Sakusa levels another look at him. “Say it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Omi. Now, let’s go, I have a whole list of what I wanna buy-”

“No chocolate pizza.”

“Aww, but Omi-kun-“

“ _No._ ”

(In the end, he did get his chocolate pizza, only after telling Sakusa he’d pay for it himself. He doesn’t think he’d appreciate knowing he was actually using Kita’s credit card.)

..

Days pass by in relative ease. Atsumu still annoys Sakusa every chance he gets and is in turn annoyed at having someone tail him everywhere he goes.

Sakusa leaves him alone when they’re home, only bothering him when they make dinner. He’d sat back and watched at first, as Atsumu tried to boil pasta, but when it became increasingly obvious he had no idea what he was doing, Sakusa had nudged him to the side and taken over.

He’s a good cook, Atsumu thinks whenever he looks over the table and watches Sakusa neatly eating his own food while reading the newspaper. And if eating warm dinner with another person makes Atsumu feel all warm and tingly inside, he’d never admit it.

Atsumu barges in Sakusa’s room without knocking, hoping to either piss him off or see him caught off-guard – hopefully both. In the end, it’s neither; Sakusa only raises an eyebrow as he closes the bathroom door behind him. He’s fully dressed in his usual attire, a three-piece suit, this time a deep red. He doesn’t wear gloves or a mask unless they go out.

“Do you ever wear anything else?” Atsumu just has to ask. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sakusa in casual clothing. Not that he cares.

“I do,” is all Sakusa offers. “What is it?”

What was Atsumu coming to tell him? He’d forgotten when Sakusa had distracted him- oh right! “We’re going out tonight.”

He checks his watch, realizes he left it in his room and coughs. Sakusa’s mouth quirks up in a tiny shadow of a smirk. “In… in an hour, I’m guessing. I hope. Do you have a watch?”

“Mhm. You have a phone, you know.”

Atsumu slaps himself on his forehead. “Shit. I do.” He pulls it out of his pocket and checks. “Yeah. In an hour. Be ready.”

Sakusa sits on his bed calmly and tilts his head back. “You’re the one still in pajamas. Where’re we going?”

“To the club.”

Sakusa straightens quickly, alarm passing over his face. He looks ready to protest, but Atsumu holds his hand up. “Hinata’s going to be there. It’s just a club, Omi.”

He settles back, but still looks dubious. “It’s loud, crowded, dark. A great place to do someone harm, if you want to.”

“Okay, but how would they know I’m gonna be there anyway?”

Sakusa makes a frustrated noise. “Miya, do you not understand who you are? Ever since you turned eighteen, people have been vying for your head just to settle scores against your father, and now Kita-san.”

His stare drills deep inside Atsumu and he shifts uncomfortably where he’s standing. “They see you and they will take advantage, it’s not about having a plan.”

Atsumu lets his words sink in while they stand in silence. “Well, at least they waited until I was legal, you know? Can’t put child killer on their list of crimes.”

Sakusa scoffs and waves him off. “Oh for fuck’s sake, leave me alone, Miya. Go get ready.”

“Aye, aye captain,” Atsumu salutes and spins around to leave. He leaves the door open and snickers when he hears it close with a bit too much force behind him.

..

The club is full when they arrive, people bumping into them at every turn. Sakusa walks close behind him and Atsumu can basically feel the disgust rolling off him. He glances back, and while Sakusa looks the same as ever, he can’t hide the tenseness in his shoulders.

Atsumu’s come to find Sakusa doesn’t really enjoy crowds. He’s never outright told him, but Atsumu can connect the dots himself. Sakusa never attends the lavish parties Atsumu loves going to. He can count maybe two times in the years Sakusa has worked at MSBY that he’s been at one.

It’s not Atsumu’s problem, though. He’s not going to stop living his life just because Kita decided he can’t go outside without supervision. If Sakusa doesn’t like what he does or where he goes, he can just stay at home. It’s not like Atsumu is going to tell anyone.

He pushes through the sea of bodies, trying to find his way to the bar. Unlike Sakusa, he feels right at home in places like this, music pulsing through his body, strobe lights blinding him every ten seconds as they pass on his face. It’s second nature for him, at this point, to let his body sway with the beat and throw flirtatious smiles at anyone who catches his eye.

Hinata’s waiting for him at the bar, though, so he dodges all wandering hands and keeps walking. He spots the orange-haired man and waves at him excitedly. “Hinata! My man!”

Hinata grins at him when he plops to sit down next to him. He’s a weird-looking guy, twenty-three and still looks seventeen. His face looks almost identical to when Atsumu first met him five years ago, only his body growing more muscular. He’s a cool guy, though. Really chill.

“Atsumu! I’ve been waiting for you, thought maybe you were picked up by someone the moment you walked through the door.”

Atsumu laughs and motions for the bartender. “Trust me, I was tempted. Suga!”

Sugawara wipes his hands on a rag as he comes over with a small smile. “Hey, Atsumu. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Yeah, stuff happened and I almost died and now I can’t go anywhere without a bodyguard. Can I get a Black Russian, please?”

“Sure,” Sugawara answers easily and starts pulling out bottles of alcohol. “What’s different about this time for you to get a bodyguard?”

He slides a drink to Atsumu, who takes it gratefully and raises it before taking a swig. He waits for the burn in his throat to subside before answering. “That’s what I said the first time too. But I get it, I guess. It was more serious this time. Not just a ploy for money, just a genuine assassination attempt.”

Atsumu peeks over his shoulder to try and get a glance of Sakusa. He’s nowhere to be seen, but Atsumu knows he’s close. He has an uncanny ability to blend into the shadows, always aware of everything. Even now, he can feel eyes burning into his back. At least, he hopes it’s Sakusa. The alternative would be pretty bad.

He turns back around and takes another sip of his drink. “Oh, wow, this is some heavy stuff. Are you trying to get me drunk, Suga?”

“Nope. Not at all. I am not trying to get a customer at a bar drunk by giving him alcohol. Come on now.” Sugawara leaves them for another customer with a smile. He’s a smiley guy, really nice and friendly. Atsumu likes him.

He offers his glass to Hinata, who’s nursing a beer bottle. He sniffs at it before taking it and drinking the rest. Atsumu laughs at his grimace. “Yikes. How do you drink this?”

“Says the one drinking Bud Light.”

Hinata shakes his beer, the liquid sloshing inside. “It doesn’t get me as drunk. I have an early day tomorrow.”

Atsumu makes a questioning hum as he leans over the counter and steals a liquor bottle from the other side. He sees Sugawara shake his head at him from the other end of the bar. Atsumu flashes a smile and a thumbs up back.

“Some guys have been holding out on paying back debts for a while now,” Hinata explains as he watches Atsumu pour vodka to his empty glass. “Kita-san wanted me to rough them up, get them to pay.”

Atsumu glances at him. “If they don’t pay?”

Hinata snorts drily. “I kill them and take the money anyway.”

Atsumu hums and traces the rim of his glass. He’s grown up in the middle of all this, has seen and heard all kinds of unpleasant stuff, but the one thing he’s never witnessed is someone dying. His father had refused to let the twins around violence when he was still around, but even since then Atsumu has been kept far from the bad stuff – because of his own choice. He has no interest in becoming a killer. Osamu had chosen differently.

Whenever he had gotten caught up in Yakuza business, someone had always escorted him out before the ones to steal him had gotten bullets in their head. Kita’s always been adamant about keeping him safe and Atsumu can’t even begin to imagine the gray hairs he’s given the man so far.

It’s crazy, sometimes, to think that his friends and the people he sees and talks to everyday, have all killed people. It’s not like the victims are ever innocent, but still. He forgets sometimes.

Hinata brightens next to him. “How are things with Sakusa, by the way? Is he here?”

Atsumu exhales and tips his head back for a swig. “Yup. Don’t know where, but somewhere.”

They spend the next hour just talking, occasionally drinking. Neither of them are trying to get drunk, so Atsumu puts the vodka bottle back after his third drink.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he shifts to look at whoever is sliding to the empty seat next to him. His eyebrows lift in pleasant surprise when he sees a man about his age give him a grin. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” Atsumu replies, eyeing the man appreciatively. Tall, dirty blond hair, broad shoulders and large hands, if the one still on his shoulder is anything to go by. Atsumu wasn’t planning on going home with anyone, but his mind is changing quickly.

“Could I buy you a drink?” the guy asks in a low voice that brings shivers to Atsumu’s spine. His other hand slides over his thigh and yeah, Atsumu’s gone. He’s going home with this guy tonight. Or maybe just the club bathroom, he’s not picky.

He shifts slightly, leans towards the guy with a half-lidded gaze. “Oh, a drink’s not what I need from you right now,” he purrs.

Hinata chuckles behind him, but he barely even hears it, too engrossed in the staring match he has going on with the guy. “I’m going to get going then, Atsumu. See you later. Bye, Suga.”

“Yeah, bye,” Atsumu replies without looking away, letting his eyes flicker down to the guy’s lips. He smirks when he sees him swallow. “You’re hot. Wanna get out of here?”

The guy chuckles throatily, sliding the hand on Atsumu’s shoulder down to his back. “Are you always this direct?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrow and shifts closer. “You talked to me with sex in your mind, I know it, you know it. Why delay the inevitable with useless chatter? My place?”

As if he would go to anyone else’s place to hook up. He likes having fun, but he’s not stupid. Going alone and tipsy to a stranger’s house is a sure way of getting murdered. At least his home is close to Kita and has emergency buttons everywhere if it really comes down to it.

The guy hums in approval and stands up, tugging Atsumu along by the waist. He stumbles slightly, the effects of vodka kicking to action by the move. The guy – should he ask his name? He likes his hookups anonymous but calling him ‘the guy’ is starting to get annoying – stabilizes him and they share a tiny laugh.

It’s then that Atsumu remembers about Sakusa. He curses inside his head. Dammit, is he going to follow them home? Probably, since it’s his job, but also… awkward. His walls are _not_ soundproof, as Osamu has told him many times when they still lived together. He doesn’t necessarily want an audience while he’s getting fucked. Although…

He shakes his head. Nah. Sakusa doesn’t really seem like the voyeuristic type. Speaking of which, where even is he? Did he decide to leave after all?

They’re maybe halfway to the door when a gloved hand stops him by the wrist. Confused, his eyes travel up the arm to meet Sakusa’s dark eyes. The guy makes a confused sound beside him as they halt to a stop, but Atsumu can’t tear his eyes from Sakusa’s. He smiles stupidly. “Oh, there you are.”

“Who is this?” the guy asks, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed. Sakusa’s eyes turn to him and then to his hand around Atsumu’s waist. If Atsumu didn’t know any better, he’d think he looks borderline disdainful.

“No one you need to know. Miya, we’re leaving.”

“Miya?” the guy’s stare jumps towards him and he mentally sighs. Great. Thanks, Sakusa.

“Yeah, Omi. We’re leaving. Me and him. To _fuck_. You can come too if you want, I guess.”

Sakusa’s grip on his wrist tightens. “Miya. What did I tell you a week ago? I tell you to do something, and you _do it_.”

Atsumu growls in frustration and looks between Sakusa and his failed hookup. The guy looks a bit intimidated, whether it’s because of Sakusa or because he connected Atsumu’s last name and MSBY, he doesn’t know.

“Um. Maybe I should go. This guy obviously doesn’t want me to- uh, yeah. I’ll go,” the guy says nervously and takes a step backwards.

“Omi, are you serious right now? We’re just going to my place, it’s fine!”

Sakusa’s eyes sharpen and he takes a tiny step forward. Atsumu swallows and keeps his ground. His date takes a big step back.

“I am doing my job here, Miya. My instructions were to keep eyes on you wherever you are and never let you leave with anyone that’s not me, Osamu-san or Kita-san. Do you want me to call him, by the way? Because I can and I will.”

The guy groans and keeps inching backwards. “Okay, that’s seriously it. I’m not- Don’t involve me in your Yakuza shit, okay? I didn’t- I had no idea-“

“Leave,” is all Sakusa has to say and the guy is fleeing, not even looking back as he disappears in the crowd. Sakusa’s grip around his wrist loosens and he steps back.

Atsumu rubs the slightly reddened area and musters every bit of irritation he feels to his glare. “Not cool, Omi-kun, not cool. He was just about to give me the best sex of my life, you know.”

Sakusa scoffs and motions for Atsumu to start walking. He does, but not without trying to look as reluctant as possible just to be petty. “That guy? He wasn’t going to give you shit. Now keep walking, we’re leaving.”

“Oh, and you know so much about it? Bet you’ve never even had sex.”

Cold air hits them in the face the moment they step outside, and Atsumu blinks as his eyes immediately water. Sakusa directs them towards the car, pulling Atsumu by the elbow when he almost walks past it. They stay silent until they’re sitting in the car and Sakusa starts the engine.

Atsumu crosses his arms and knows he’s acting like a toddler, but right now he feels annoyed and horny and this thing with Sakusa is seriously not working out.

“Well?”

Sakusa doesn’t even spare a glance at him. “Well what?”

“Have you had sex?” Atsumu presses, like Sakusa’s dumb for not getting it.

That does get him a brief look, but it’s indecipherable as always, especially with the stupid mask on. “Are you serious?”

Atsumu sniffles. “Yes.”

“… I have.”

“Have ya really?”

“Miya, I’m twenty-eight. I’ve had sex.”

“I’m kinda surprised. I thought you were a germaphobe.”

Sakusa sighs. “I’m not. Not to that extent, at least. I like to be clean, that’s all.”

“Sex isn’t clean, though.”

“ _No,_ it isn’t. Miya, shut up and let me drive.”

Atsumu huffs and slouches in his seat. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised Sakusa isn’t a virgin. He is pretty old after all. And in all honesty, now that he looks at him properly, not that ugly. The hair is pretty cool, he guesses, and the eyes…

Yeah okay, Sakusa is attractive as fuck. It’s not a secret, not a surprise, Atsumu has known it for years, ever since he was sixteen and going through his gay awakening after seeing a twenty-year-old Sakusa walk through Kita’s office doors for the first time.

Maybe he’s a bit bitter that his childhood crush ended up basically hating him because of his big mouth, but he’s over that now, has been for years.

He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to ask him what he asks next. “Did ya know I was gay?”

He hears Sakusa take a deep breath, like he’s composing his patience. “Yes, Miya, I knew you were gay. Everyone knows. You’ve been out for many years now.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

“Okay. Now be quiet.”

The rest of the ride passes by in silence, even though Atsumu squirms restlessly, itching to fill the quiet with chatter. He’s not that good with silences, especially when there’s alcohol and the dissatisfaction of getting cock-blocked running through his blood.

Sakusa follows a couple steps behind him like he always does as they near the front door. Atsumu fumbles with his keycard and is about to insert it, when Sakusa grabs his arm and tugs him back sharply.

“Ow, what the hell, Omi?”

Sakusa presses an urgent finger to his lips, shutting Atsumu up. He gets pulled behind Sakusa, who reaches for the gun he always carries strapped to his rib holster. Apprehension bubbles in Atsumu’s chest and he reaches instinctively for Sakusa, clutching his fingers on his jacket.

“What’s going on?” he whispers, afraid to raise his voice any more. Sakusa shushes him softly and pulls on the door carefully. Atsumu watches with dawning understanding as the supposedly locked door swings open silently.

“Stay behind me, they might still be inside,” Sakusa whispers, waiting for Atsumu to nod wordlessly before moving forward, clicking the safety off on his gun.

Atsumu lets go of his jacket but follows close. He thought they’d wait a bit longer before attempting something on him again. Or maybe this is someone different. All he knows is that his hands are trembling, even though he tries to tell himself it’s not the first time and he’s not alone. Doesn’t really work.

Sakusa makes him lock himself to the closest bathroom from the doorway. “If they’re still here and they have guns, I don’t want you in shooting range,” he tells him.

So there he sits on the closed toilet lid, restlessly waiting for Sakusa to check the entire apartment. And maybe he’s a bit scared. He’s most likely safer here than running around in open space with Sakusa, but something about the other man makes him feel better, like if he just hangs close enough, no one could ever hurt him. It’s stupid.

He tenses when he hears footsteps approach the bathroom. The door is locked, but you could easily shoot through. Or hack it with an axe. Or just kick it down, really. Or-

Someone knocks on the door twice and Atsumu flinches. “Hey. Open up, it’s just me.”

He exhales in pure relief and hangs his head back for a moment. All the adrenaline washes out of his body at once and he sags down. Sakusa knocking means no one’s here.

He drags himself up and goes to unlock the door. He meets Sakusa’s grave eyes and offers a weak grin. “Didn’t hear gunshots.”

Sakusa eyes him before nodding over his shoulder. “They’ve left, but you won’t like what’s out there.”

“Oh no, what is it? If it’s a dead body, I _really_ don’t wanna see it.”

“It’s not.”

“You sure know how to be ominous, don’t ya? Well, let’s see it, then.”

He walks hesitantly behind Sakusa to the huge, open area that includes his living room, dining room and kitchen and stops in his tracks once he sees it. The entire place is trashed. Vases and pictures smashed to the floor, pillows torn and thrown around, his fucking dining table is missing a leg.

A gargling whine leaves his mouth and he staggers to the closest armchair. He slumps down and looks around at the destruction. Oh great, his favorite painting is ruined. What else? What about his room where all his personal shit is?

He groans. “Fuck. It’s gonna cost a shit ton to fix this.”


	2. Diva Season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fast update? in my ao3? it's more likely than you think. also nothing exciting in this chapter, sorry lol

Atsumu watches Osamu rise from his squat where he was examining a faint footprint on the carpet. He stands there looking at it for a few more seconds before turning to Atsumu.

“Well, it’s a footprint, that’s for sure.”

Atsumu makes an ugly face at him. “No shit, you fucker. Can you take this a bit more seriously? You’re supposed to be the responsible one of us.”

“Okay, hey, I was just joking.” Osamu approaches him and pokes a finger at his brother’s forehead. Atsumu glares up at him. “You don’t usually take these things so hard. What’s up?”

Atsumu swats his hand away and scrunches his nose. He _does_ take these things hard, no matter how hard he tries to pretend he doesn’t. Having to constantly look over your shoulder all the time starts wearing you out after a while. But he refuses to be weak, so he just sucks it up.

“It’s nothing. Just…” and oh God, why are his eyes burning? To his horror, he feels tears forming without his consent on the corners of his eyes. He looks down before Osamu can see.

“My room’s fucked up. The… the stuff mom left, they’re…” he quiets down when his voice cracks embarrassingly. Shit, why is he such a pussy? Anyone else would just shrug and let it go, like Osamu does every time he ‘terminates a contact’ and comes back like nothing ever happened.

He hears Osamu sigh softly and the couch next to him sinks as he sits down. “All of it? The pictures, too?”

His gentle voice just makes Atsumu want to cry harder. At least it’s his twin who’s here to witness it, he’s the only one that understands. He nods and stares at his clenched hands in his lap. “And the letters. I could tape them back, but…”

“Oh, ‘Tsumu,” is all his brother says and they sit there in silence as Atsumu tries to reign his emotions back. Osamu’s the only who knows what Atsumu went through when their mom died. It was hard on both of them, but Atsumu had always gravitated more towards her while Osamu was closer to their dad.

Atsumu doesn’t think he’s ever cried as hard as back then, at ten years old and standing next to his mom’s grave. He was inconsolable for months and the only person who made him feel better was Osamu who refused to let him grieve alone. And maybe they bicker and fight all the time, but at the end of the day, he’s so fucking grateful to his brother, who’s probably the only reason he’s still alive.

They’re interrupted by approaching voices that get gradually closer. Atsumu looks up as Kita and Sakusa appear from his bedroom, looking serious and talking quietly. He wipes a hand over his eyes quickly, hiding any evidence of his emotional outburst.

Kita sighs as he stop in front of him, leaning his hip on an out-turned table. He looks around at the disarray, mouth turned down in a slight frown. Atsumu waits for him to speak, sneaking a glance at Sakusa, who’s looking at him curiously. At least he thinks it’s curiosity on his face, it’s hard to tell sometimes. He’s so impassive, like a freaking statue.

Kita finally speaks. “I’m going to send someone to clean all this up, and we can discuss the refurnishing together, if you want. For now, you can’t stay here. I’m relocating you to the headquarters. It’s safer and closer to us. I doubt anyone will take the chance to try and break in there.”

He rubs a tired hand over his face. “We’re going to discuss this further tomorrow, if you’re up for it. You don’t need to be there if you don’t want to. I can get the details from Sakusa.”

Atsumu nods mutely. He never thought he’d miss his lonely apartment, but now that he’s leaving, he realizes how attached he is to it. It has been his home for almost a decade, to be fair. Kita looks at him with pitying eyes and he wonders if he’s really that obvious or if Kita just knows him that well.

He stands up and smooths his aching palms over his jeans. “I’m gonna go pack whatever’s left, then.”

Kita stops him by the shoulder as he moves to pass him. His gaze feels like it’s penetrating through every layer of Atsumu’s skin, but he sets his shoulders and meets his unwavering eyes. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find out whoever’s doing this and end it. I promise to you.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. I know.”

Kita searches his eyes before nodding and squeezing his shoulder. “Good. You’re a good kid. Go pack up and get some sleep tonight. You look horrible.”

Atsumu snorts. Kita is allergic to showing emotional affection. Something about undermining his reputation or whatever. Atsumu thinks it’s bullshit because a soft Kita is a far scarier sight than an angry one. He should tell him sometime. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? I think you need to seriously consider some hair dye and Botox.”

He laughs and dodges Kita’s half-assed smack to his head. Kita calls after him: “Whose fault do you think my premature aging is, huh? Fucking brat.”

..

By MSBY’s headquarters Kita means a row of sleek buildings at a private property smack in the middle of the area they control. It’s close to Atsumu’s house, maybe a ten-minute walk away. They have small apartments on the upper levels, meant for the more important members. Like Sakusa, apparently, because it’s his apartment they’re heading for.

Atsumu doesn’t know why he’s so eager to see where Sakusa lives, considering he’s seen some of the other apartments, like Bokuto’s. Though his was interesting to say the least, messy and unorganized with guns on every surface imaginable. Somehow Atsumu doubts Sakusa’s will be the same.

He bounces on his heels as Sakusa unlocks the door and lets them inside. Atsumu sweeps his eyes over the place and dumps his bag on the floor. It’s… a normal apartment. As in, there’s nothing personal or out of the ordinary anywhere.

Neat, clean shelves with books, monochromatic furnishing, one painting on the wall over a couch with no pillows. There’s not even any curtains on the windows. It’s not like Atsumu’s house was the warmest place on the planet, but he at least had trinkets and colorful decorations to brighten the place up.

It’s… a little sad. Maybe Sakusa is into the whole minimalism thing, but Atsumu thrives in full, warm places and this is the complete opposite to that.

He glances at Sakusa and feels his heart stutter. The man has taken off his jacket and draped it over the couch’s backrest. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms and Atsumu really doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s sexy. Who would’ve known Sakusa would be one for tattoos?

Atsumu shakes his head – focus, dammit. He follows Sakusa to the kitchen and leans over the counter, resting his chin on his hands. He watches Sakusa pull out a couple of glasses and fill them with water. He can’t help his eyes from wandering over the inked arms with interest. Sleeves, huh? He wonders if they go all the way up to his shoulders. Does he have tattoos anywhere else?

Atsumu blinks when a glass is slid over the counter. He takes it and sips carefully. “Thanks, Omi. You’re so hospitable. Could it be you’ve warmed up to me already?”

Sakusa doesn’t answer, instead leans back on the cupboards behind him. He swirls the water on his glass like it’s wine before taking a sip and saying casually: “You bounce back fast.”

Atsumu carefully keeps his face neutral, even when his skin prickles with heat. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I saw you crying earlier. I don’t know if you’re pretending to be okay or if you really just switch moods that fast.”

Atsumu’s face finally floods with redness and he presses the cool glass on his cheek. Not Sakusa too. Is it ‘Catch Atsumu crying like a baby’ day today or what? Whatever it is, he doesn’t appreciate it.

“Y’know, Omi, you’re not supposed to bring shit like that up. It was a private moment.”

Sakusa mouth quirks up and he raises an eyebrow over his own glass. “Wouldn’t call the middle of the living room a private place.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and looks down. His fingers have been drawing patterns to the wood without his knowledge. “You know what I mean. Besides, it was _my_ apartment, it should’ve been private.” Shit, does he sound bitter?

“You’re angry I’m invading your privacy.” It’s a statement, not a question. Yep, he sounded bitter.

Atsumu groans loudly and straightens up. “Yeah, no shit I’m angry! I didn’t choose to be a Miya, I didn’t choose to have a huge sign on my back saying ‘shoot me’ and I definitely didn’t choose to have you following me everywhere I go! It’s shit, all of it!”

Sakusa’s face stays impassive throughout his rant. To be honest, Atsumu doesn’t know where all of this is coming from, the words just bubble up without permission. “I mean, thanks for tonight I guess, but you have to know I don’t fuckin’ wanna be here.”

“Right,” Sakusa’s words come out flat. “And you think I do?”

Atsumu’s mouth opens before he closes it. “I- Well, no, but-“

“You think I want to spend all day and night running after your reckless ass to clubs, listening to you whine and complain? You’re a spoiled brat, and I have no interest in being a part of it.”

Atsumu flinches. Sakusa’s voice is the same, quiet and cold as always, but it feels like he’s yelling. This is one of those times Sakusa lets go of his professionalism and lets Atsumu have it. Except this time, Atsumu wasn’t trying to make him snap. There’s no flush of satisfaction in making him react, just cold shame because Sakusa somehow makes it sound like Atsumu is dirt beneath his shoes.

Sakusa’s eyes bore into his with hard intensity and Atsumu doesn’t know what to say. He’s not going to apologize because he didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t think. Did he? He was just complaining for the sake of it. It’s his coping mechanism to stress or whatever psychoanalysis bullshit Osamu keeps lecturing him about.

“You could’ve just said no to Kita,” he mumbles and crosses his arms. He’s going into pouting mode and he sees the moment Sakusa decides to end the conversation.

“No, I couldn’t have,” he says dismissively and turns around to set his glass in the sink. “Go to bed, Miya, you’re tired.”

Atsumu curls his arms around himself tighter as Sakusa walks past him without a single glance in his direction. He disappears behind some door, probably his bedroom. Atsumu stays where he is for a while, wondering why he’s letting what Sakusa said get to him. The cold air from the AC blows goosebumps to his skin.

“I hate this day,” he mutters to himself and kicks the kitchen counter lightly. Maybe he should leave a mark, give Sakusa something to be mad about. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

Laying in bed that night, he stares at the ceiling and wishes his brain would shut up long enough for him to fall asleep. He hasn’t told anyone, but he hasn’t been sleeping that well lately. He scoffs. Not that he needs to, apparently people take one look at him and already know.

He doesn’t really know why he can’t sleep, but it feels like all of his senses are on high alert every night, he’s too alert to even consider falling asleep. His eyes force themselves open every time they droop close. It’s annoying and seriously baffling because he has no fucking idea what’s causing it. He only falls asleep after hours of rolling around in his sheets.

Even now, he tries to relax and force his breathing to a slow and steady pace, but every tiny sound makes him jolt and sets his heart racing. He strains to hear better and drops back down after confirming it’s just the AC setting itself off.

He considers waking Sakusa up and bothering him into spending time with him, but then his mind goes to their earlier exchange and he huffs out a breath. As if he’d want to hang out with someone who’d called him a spoiled brat.

He worries his lower lip between his teeth. Well… it’s not like Sakusa’s necessarily wrong. He is a spoiled brat, but he doesn’t mean to be. Doesn’t want to be.

He looks down at the stuffed animal in his arms, a large fox, and clutches it tighter against his chest. He rests his chin on top of it and closes his eyes. He’s not falling asleep any time soon, but he can at least rest his eyes. Maybe his eyebags will recede a bit. He’s starting to look like Osamu and that’s probably the most horrifying part of all this.

..

He’s already sitting around the kitchen table by the time Sakusa comes out of his room the next morning. He looks up on instinct and proceeds to freeze with a mouth full of cereal he stole from the cupboard.

Sakusa’s usual attire of suits and vests are nowhere to be seen. He’s switched them for a loose, white t-shirt and a pair of gray fleece shorts. His arms and legs are on display, dark ink contrasting the pale skin. His curly hair falls over his forehead in messy swoops.

He looks so… casual. And domestic. It’s weirding Atsumu out, he’d somehow thought Sakusa wore his suits all day, no matter where he was. It feels private to see him like this.

Sakusa lifts an eyebrow at him when he walks past him to open the fridge. “Swallow your food. You look like a chipmunk.”

Atsumu swallows hurriedly, almost choking in the process. “Well, you look like a… I don’t know… something. Something ugly.”

“That’s a new level of ineloquence, even for you.”

“My brain doesn’t work that well in the mornings,” Atsumu waves it off. “You’re wearing clothes.”

Sakusa glances down at his clothes. “I am. Should I not?”

“Not what I mean! It’s a _t-shirt_. I didn’t know you owned any of those.”

“I’m going to elect to ignore that. Did you have a good night?”

Atsumu leans back and cracks his spine over the chair. “Sure. Your guest bed is very comfortable. Is it from Ikea?”

“I heard you go to the kitchen to drink at 3am,” Sakusa ignores his question.

“Uhhh, yeah?” he laughs. “I was thirsty. Also, you can’t have anything to say about that, because you were also awake at 3am to hear me. Checkmate.”

Sakusa shakes his head and sits down with his own bowl of cereal. “You’re impossible to talk to. I also see you helped yourself to my kitchen.”

Atsumu grins with a mouth full of cornflakes just to see Sakusa flinch. “Yup. Thith thereal ith tho good,” he tells him.

They’ve both apparently chosen to ignore whatever their little argument was yesterday. That’s fine with Atsumu. It’s too early to be serious anyway.

“I have an idea you’re going to love,” he announces after a long silence filled with nothing but the clinking of spoons and sounds of chewing. Sakusa throws a dubious look at him.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m going to hate it?”

“That’s because you probably will,” Atsumu confesses. “But I’m going to love it and that’s enough.”

Sakusa sighs and sets his spoon down. “Let’s hear it then.”

Atsumu leans forward. “Drumroll, please.”

After Sakusa just keeps staring at him, he rolls his eyes and drums the table himself. He gives it a few seconds for dramatic effect before blurting out:

“We’re going to give your house a makeover!”

He leans back with a satisfied smile. It’s a brilliant idea, really. Atsumu loves decorating and Sakusa will love the finished product. It’s perfect!

Sakusa seems to disagree, because he takes a few deep breaths and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, but why not?” Atsumu whines.

Sakusa gives him a disbelieving look. “Because it’s my house and I like it the way it is.”

“Are you sure, though?” Atsumu looks around dubiously. “It’s very… hm. Well, it just is.”

He pushes his cereal bowl to the side and claps his hands together. “It’s decided then. We’re going shopping! Again.”

Sakusa looks up and releases a long, long breath. “They are _not_ paying me enough,” he mutters.

..

Sakusa agreed – very reluctantly – to his idea, but only if they buy everything online. Apparently it’s safer than going to the city. Fair enough, except Atsumu thinks Sakusa is just lazy and doesn’t want to go to Ikea with him.

They’d ended up sitting side by side on the couch with a laptop in front of them. There’s something to be said about sitting so close to a bare-legged Sakusa. Atsumu had felt like every time their legs – because he was wearing shorts too! Why! – or arms brushed together his skin had lit up on fire.

It was torture, to say the least. Because Atsumu’d had suspicions for a while now, but he’d brushed them off as nostalgia or whatever. This time he knows. He’s still attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi. It’s a fun discovery, except not really because the chances of Sakusa wanting to sleep with him are close to zero. Probably zero. Probably in the negatives, to be honest.

There’s also the fact that he still heavily dislikes Sakusa as a person. So it works out, he guesses. He’s pretty sure Sakusa is straight anyway. He’s never seen him bring any dates to any festivities MSBY arranges, but what are the odds of both of them being gay?

“Wait, hold on, scroll up. Little more. Stop! That frog lamp is so cute. We’re getting it.”

Sakusa looks vaguely disgusted. “A… frog lamp.”

“Uh-uh. Go down, I think there are matching fairy lights somewhere here. See, what I’m thinking is putting them over the windows there. I think it’d look pretty during the dark.”

“I hope you know you’re taking these with you when you move back out,” Sakusa informs him drily, but puts the items on the cart anyway. Atsumu has a faint suspicion he’s going along with this just to keep him occupied and happy, but he’s just glad to have something to distract him from thoughts of his mother’s torn letters and photos.

“You’ll like them,” he dismisses. “Go to the plant section, this place needs some greenery.”

They end up calling Hinata to go pick their items up. Atsumu stretches his legs over the coffee table, pouting when Sakusa pushes them off immediately. “Keep your dirty feet off my table.”

“Sorry. Should we watch a movie?”

“You can watch a movie, but I have shit to do. Don’t bother me for a while.”

Atsumu fiddles with the remote while Sakusa retires to his room to make some super shady phone calls. He thought being his bodyguard was the only job he had, but apparently he still has to act as a messenger between Kita and whoever is unfortunate enough to be on the other side.

He’s starting to get restless, whatever happens to be playing on the TV not enough to keep him still. There’s a reason he likes going out to clubs and parties. They keep him busy when he starts getting shifty. He cranes his neck to look at Sakusa’s door. He can hear faint talking on the other side, which means he’s still not done.

Atsumu taps his fingers on his knees and wonders if Sakusa would let them go outside for a while. Maybe just a walk. Or they could go out to eat. There’s a park not far from here that’s always empty because parents don’t like bringing their kids there.

_Gee, I wonder why._

He realizes he can no longer hear any voices from Sakusa’s bedroom and he scrambles to his feet. He’s about to knock on the door just as it swings open, taking Atsumu with it. He curses as the door makes contact with his nose and staggers back.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

He touches his nose tenderly, trying to figure out if it’s still intact. He looks up at Sakusa, who looks like he’s trying to keep his face straight. Atsumu makes a face at him. Is he seriously enjoying his pain?

“Thanks for that, Omi.”

“You’re welcome. I’d like to take credit for it, but it was an accident.”

He moves past him to walk to the kitchen. Atsumu follows him automatically. He’s still cupping his nose, grimacing at the pain. Shit. It really does hurt. “Why do your doors swing that way, anyway? It makes no sense.”

“Blame whoever made this apartment. I guess the blame belongs to your father.” Sakusa squats down to rummage through the freezer. Atsumu tilts his head in indignation.

“Are you really gonna make dinner while I’m suffering?”

He watches Sakusa stand up and nudge the freezer close with his knee. Turning around, he lets Atsumu see what’s in his hands. Oh. It’s a cold pack. Sakusa moves to stand in front of him.

“Let me see your nose.”

Atsumu swallows at their proximity and lets his hands fall down. Sakusa holds his chin with two fingers, tilting his face in every direction. His eyes scour carefully over the damage. Atsumu has almost forgotten about the pain, honestly, Sakusa touching him is that shocking.

“Can you breathe properly?”

Atsumu realizes he’s been holding his breath. He lets it out, taking a few practice breaths. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not broken. Might bruise later, though.”

Sakusa presses the cold pack against his heated skin carefully, eyes flicking up to meet Atsumu’s briefly when he hisses at the contact. “Can you hold it yourself?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Atsumu lifts slightly shaky fingers to hold onto the pack himself. Is this what Sakusa’s girlfriends experience every day? Because if so, where can he apply? He’s just joking, who would want to be Sakusa’s girlfriend? Gross.

Sakusa moves back and they stand there, just looking at each other. Atsumu realizes belatedly he should probably thank him. “Thanks. For the cold pack, that is. I mean, technically you’re the reason I even need it, so like, bare minimum. Still, thanks. It’s nice of ya.”

Sakusa hums. “Just making sure I don’t get fired. Don’t think Kita-san would appreciate me breaking your nose.”

Atsumu snorts. “Okay. You’re an asshole, forget about it.”

Sakusa gives him a tiny smirk, causing sudden butterflies to erupt in Atsumu’s stomach. He groans inwardly. Unacceptable. He needs to change the subject immediately.

“So,” he starts. “I need alcohol.”

He cringes. That was not what he meant to say.

Sakusa crosses his arms and shrugs. “There’s a bar downstairs. I’ll let you go if you promise to behave.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m not needed. No outsiders are allowed in, you know that. You’ll be fine. Wouldn’t want to invade your privacy.”

Atsumu’s head shoots up. “Are you seriously still mad about that?”

“I’m not,” Sakusa says and walks past him. “Put the cold pack in the freezer when you’re done.”

Atsumu’s left gaping after him in the kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sakusa be petty towards anyone. Figures, that it would be him to bring it out of the man. He shakes his head and goes to put the cold pack away like Sakusa told him to.

The pain is pretty much dulled by the cold and few touches to his nose tell him it shouldn’t be crooked. He takes one last look at Sakusa’s closed bedroom door and then turns to leave. Fine. If he wants to be like that. Maybe a drink or two wouldn’t too bad.

..

“’Samu,” he slurs and smiles lazily when he hears a sigh on the other side of the call. Osamu always responds when he calls. He’s such a good brother.

“Are you drunk?”

Atsumu slouches further over the table and hums. “Ya. Wasn’t s’pposed to. Was an accident, I swear.”

“Are you alone? Is Sakusa there with you?” There’s a pause and then an alarmed: “Are you at a club? Please tell me you’re somewhere safe.”

“Relaaax. I’m at MSBY HQ. ‘nd he’s not here ‘cause he’s a meanie and doesn’t like me.”

“Okay. We’re not unpacking all that. Are you okay? Why are you drinking?”

Atsumu draws a heart on the salt he poured on the table earlier. “No reason. Just felt like it. Stupid Omi m’king me feel things.”

A longer pause this time. “Are you crushing on him again?”

Atsumu shoots up in his seat and then groans at the wave of nausea washing over him. “What d’you mean? How’d you know?”

Osamu chuckles on the other side. “Yeah, ‘Tsumu, you weren’t necessarily subtle back then. You were like the guy who pulls on your crush’s pigtails in kindergarten. It was cute.”

Atsumu leans his weight on the plush backrest of his booth and groans even louder. “Oh no. Does everyone know? Oh God, does _he_ know?”

“I know Kita knows. Suna definitely knows. Don’t know about Sakusa, that guy’s like a blank paper, can’t get a read on him.”

“Well, howth- how the fuck does Suna know?”

“’Cause I told him. Anyway, am I right? Do you still like him?”

“Noooo. I don’t,” Atsumu rests his head on his arms. “I like his body. There’s a difference.”

Osamu hums. “Okay. Don’t drink too much, ‘kay? I don’t want you complaining in the morning when you have a hangover.”

“For that, I’ll drink even more. Can’t believe ya told Sunarin,” Atsumu mumbles.

“Boyfriend privileges. I’m gonna let ya go now, okay? Call Sakusa to pick you up. I don’t want you wandering off.”

“Yeah yeah. Bye, bro,” Atsumu waves at his phone and hangs up. He huffs and drops back to rest on his arms. He ignores the glances he gets from the other people around him. He really wasn’t supposed to get so drunk, but he’s also not complaining. He likes the haze that’s set over him, it makes him feel nice and peaceful.

He’s been here for a while now, taking turns calling all his friends. Aran had straight up hung up on him the moment Atsumu first slurred out his name. Some best friend. _See if I ever visit you in America again._

He decides to take Osamu’s advice and texts Sakusa to come pick him up even though he’s just a couple of levels down. He can’t quite get his fingers to work, so the message comes out looking like gibberish, but he trusts Sakusa to decipher it correctly. In the meantime, he’s going to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long it has been when he feels someone knock on his table. He jolts up with wide eyes but relaxes as soon as his eyes land on a dark-haired man with a familiar mask on his face. “Mi-Mi. Hi.”

He frowns when he realizes what Sakusa is wearing. His earlier casual clothes are switched with dark slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It’s hot, but Atsumu also liked him in shorts and a t-shirt. He reaches forward to tangle his fingers in the white fabric.

“You changed,” he hiccups, “your clothes.”

Sakusa gently pries his fingers off. “When I said you could have a drink, I didn’t mean drink the entire bar empty.”

Atsumu tries to get up using the table as a crutch. “But I behaved! Didn’t do anythin’ bad.”

“Okay, I believe you. Can you walk by yourself?”

“I think,” Atsumu mumbles and takes some experimental steps. His vision keeps shaking, but at least he’s not falling over. He feels a warm hand on his middle back supporting him anyway and feels mutely thankful. Walking is suddenly really hard.

Sakusa leads him to the elevator and before Atsumu knows it, they’re back in his apartment. He falls face first to the couch and groans when the rough material rubs his nose. His voice is muffled when he says: “Everyone kept staring at me.”

There’s a clink as Sakusa sets a glass of water on the table beside him. “If you’d look in the mirror you’d know why. Take off your shoes before you dirty my couch.”

“Mm.” Atsumu’s limbs feel like lead and all he can manage is a twitch of his legs. Sakusa heaves a sigh somewhere over him and suddenly there’s a force tugging his Vans off. He turns his head to the side to see Sakusa squatting down next to his feet, throwing his shoes closer to the door with a mildly dismayed expression.

“The things I have to do, Jesus.” Sakusa’s voice is quiet, probably not meant for him to hear. Atsumu wiggles his toes.

“’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Sakusa’s eyes are unreadable as he looks at him for a long moment. Atsumu feels his incessant need to fill uncomfortable silences rear its head again.

“I found out somethin’ horrible ealrier. Ealr- earlier. Wanna hear?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway.”

“I found out everyone knew I liked you!” Atsumu gags. “Can you believe?”

He’s going to regret this in the morning, but right now revealing his secret seems like a great idea. Sakusa just keeps looking at him, expression not even changing. He looks so utterly unsurprised it makes Atsumu pause. Dread gathers in his stomach.

“Wait. Did… Didja know too?”

Sakusa looks conflicted for a moment before eventually nodding. “Yes. I knew. You were very obvious.”

Atsumu groans and hits his head on the sofa. “What the fuck? Ya never told me!”

“You were a teenager. Crushes on older men are common at that age. I knew you’d grow out of it eventually.”

“You’re just four years older than me, you’re not that old,” Atsumu grumbles. He feels utterly betrayed, by Sakusa, Osamu and Kita and everyone who never thought it necessary to tell him.

“This is so embarrassing, ‘m gonna kill myself.”

“Please don’t. Kita-san would have my head,” comes Sakusa’s wry reply.

“Good! We can both die and then we’ll never have to talk about this ever again.”

“Take a nap, Miya. It’s barely evening and you’re drunk. I’ll make dinner.”

Footsteps retreat away from Atsumu’s slumped form. He buries his head in his arms and huffs. Kita has a horrible sense of humor for assigning Sakusa to him even after knowing about his super, super embarrassing teenage infatuation to him. They’ll definitely be having words tomorrow. For now, his head feels really heavy. Maybe taking a nap wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

He refuses to think about how easy it is to fall asleep with the faint sounds of Sakusa moving around in the background.


	3. Sugar And Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro wtf happened here?? no idea anyway my finals are in a week and i just keep writing fanfiction someone save me

Atsumu is _not_ having a good time.

All bullshit that’s happened with his apartment aside, he now has a black nose. It’s horrifying, he flinches every time he walks past his reflection. It just looks so _bad_ and if he thought he used to attract attention, it’s nothing compared to now.

Who knew a simple door could cause such a big bruise? Atsumu had almost had an aneurysm the day he woke up from his drunken nap and saw his face reflected on his phone screen. Poor Sakusa had ran to the living room with alarm written all over his face and hand reflexively reaching for a gun he didn’t even have after Atsumu had screamed. Not his proudest moment, but _c’mon. His face._

The swelling had thankfully reduced in a couple of days, but his bruise has instead turned into a sickly purple with yellowish edges. Revolting. Disgusting. Osamu had laughed in his face when he first saw it.

He had considered asking Sakusa to lend him a mask, but then decided to just leave it be. So what his nose is fucked up? Who’s going to have the nerve to confront him about it? Kita had, but who else? Nobody. They can stare all they want but at least he doesn’t have to explain what actually happened to anyone. He’d rather everyone think he was beat up by someone from Karasuno. A lot more exciting that way.

And in any case, seeing Kita’s reaction had been pretty funny. It almost made up for the whole ugliness thing he’s got going on currently. He’d gone to Kita’s office to bother him while Sakusa had some business to attend to and he’d barely taken one step in before Kita was on him, fussing over his bruise. He had seriously thought he’d gotten jumped somewhere. Atsumu almost went with it just to fuck with him but the hard, slightly murderous glint in Kita’s eyes had made him think twice.

Anyway. It wouldn’t be so bad if his schedule consisted only of lounging around in Sakusa’s apartment, but alas, of course all this had to happen during Bokuto’s birthday month. Atsumu has never missed Bokuto’s birthday parties and he won’t be starting now just because Sakusa’s door wanted to get cute with him. Bokuto knows a shit ton of – hot – people and every year without fail Atsumu takes advantage of that fact to hook up with someone – or someones – afterwards.

But you can see how him having a huge bruise on his face would get in the way of that. He knows for a fact Sakusa is just about done hearing him complain about it. He’s surprised he hasn’t been left on the side of the road yet, left to fend for himself in the wilderness.

He looks at himself critically through the mirror. He’d dabbed a bit of concealer on his nose, but it honestly did jack shit. At least his hair looks good. He straightens his denim jacket and puffs his chest.

“You’re beautiful, you’re gorgeous, everybody loves you,” he tells his reflection. It doesn’t make him look any better. “These affirmations don’t even do anything, ‘Samu lied to me.”

Sakusa waits for him outside the bathroom, adjusting his cufflinks. He’s wearing a black suit, looking ten times fancier than Atsumu, but that’s to be expected, of course.

“Ah. Omi-kun, looking dashing as always. Love the black shirt, especially. Very chic.”

Sakusa turns his head to look at him, appraising him from head to toe. It’s clinical, nothing like the stares he gets from his lovers, but it embarrassingly lights his body on fire anyway.

“You ready to go?” Sakusa asks, turning away from him. Atsumu follows close behind.

“What? Not gonna compliment me back? My, Omi-kun, I thought you had more manners than that,” he presses a scandalized hand to his heart.

“You look the same as you always do,” comes Sakusa’s dry reply. Atsumu frowns at his back, smoothing a hand down his own thigh.

“I’ve never worn these clothes before though. Do I look bad? Should I go change?”

“You look _fine_. It was not an insult.” Sakusa glances at him briefly over his shoulder. “For someone who acts so cocky all the time, you’re actually very insecure.”

Atsumu has nothing to say to that because one: he’s right, and two: did Sakusa just compliment him? In a very Sakusa way, sure, but a compliment, nonetheless. And then he wonders why he even cares about Sakusa complimenting him.

He thinks back to the conversation he had with Sakusa while drunk and cringes. There was absolutely no reason for him to spill his guts like that. It stings to know Sakusa has been aware of his past crush on him all this time, while Atsumu had thought he was being subtle. And that just confirms everything he needs to know; Sakusa isn’t into him at all.

Like, sure, he was twenty while Atsumu had been sixteen, which at that age is a big difference. But he could’ve said something literally every day since then. They’re both adults and nothing’s stopping them from doing something now. Sakusa just doesn’t want to.

It’s not like Atsumu’s in love with him or anything. Damn, he’d rather kill himself. But he can’t deny his body’s reactions to his bodyguard, no matter how much he wants to. And trust him, he wants to. 

Atsumu fiddles with the radio as they drive to Bokuto’s party. He’s hosting it at his friend’s house, which is honestly less a house and more like a mansion. Atsumu still doesn’t know what Akaashi does for a living to be so loaded. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with celebrities, but it could also be fashion. Maybe both. He looks at Sakusa.

“So, how many people have you killed?” he asks conversationally. Might as well fill the silence since Sakusa definitely isn’t going to. There’s a tiny pause before he responds.

“Why do you need to know?”

“Well, I don’t. I want to, though. I’m trying to guess, and I feel like since you’re Kita’s right hand man, you’ve killed a lot. Am I wrong?”

Sakusa removes his eyes from the road to glance at him. “You’re not.”

Atsumu waits. “And?” he prods after it’s clear the other won’t elaborate.

“I haven’t been counting, if that’s what you’re asking. A lot.”

Atsumu settles back in his seat and sucks his teeth. “Have you ever killed, like… innocent people? I mean, obviously not, right? I don’t think I could ever kill anyone, even if they were bad. Maybe Hitler, you know.”

He thinks about it a moment, Sakusa’s silence not deterring him. “I would kill Hitler. I’d force myself for the greater good, y’know? I wouldn’t like it, but I would. So anyway, would you kill an innocent person if Kita asked you to? Not that he would-”

“Miya. Shut up.”

Sakusa’s words make Atsumu pause and turn his head, startled. Usually he wouldn’t care, but the sudden raspiness of his voice catches his attention. He takes in Sakusa’s gloved fingers clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. His face is pinched.

A horrible realization washes over Atsumu. He opens his mouth. “Oh. Oh, I didn’t- I had no idea-“

“It’s fine. Just… don’t bring it up again.”

Atsumu stays quiet for a while and fiddles with his fingers. He knows it’s not business, but there’s also burning curiosity simmering in his stomach. Should he ask? “Who… who was it?”

“Don’t.” Sakusa’s voice is pained, the most emotion he’s ever showed in front of Atsumu. It shakes him to his core. “I know you mean well, but just don’t.”

“Okay,” Atsumu whispers. “Sorry.”

They don’t speak again for the rest of the ride.

..

He keeps sneaking glances at Sakusa even when they make their way inside Akaashi’s ridiculous mansion, but his face is back to its impassive default, not even a glimpse of his earlier pain showing. Atsumu decides to let it go for now, even though he’s still curious. It’s not his place to pry.

“Tsum-Tsum! Sakusa!” Bokuto’s loud voice booms as they approach. He looks grand in his slacks and vest, tie halfway undone. “You made it!”

Atsumu grins at him as he gets pulled into a warm hug. “Bokkun! Happy birthday, man! You’re finally starting to look your age.”

Bokuto throws his head back in a laugh, drawing glances from guests milling around. He’s always been loud and raucous, never one to be serious. No one could ever hate him for it though, his eternal good mood infecting those around him. Atsumu would wonder how he ever got in this business if he hadn’t been a witness to the short bouts of rage erupting from him time to time. They’re rare and never directed towards any of his friends, but Atsumu can imagine how he’s climbed up the ranks.

He’s just glad to be Bokuto’s friend and not an enemy. “Akaashi, hello to you too. Your place is freakin’ nasty, did you redecorate it or something? I swear it wasn’t like this the last time.”

Akaashi looks a bit taken back, glancing between him and Bokuto. “Miya-san. I haven’t done anything to my house, but thank you, I think. Has something happened recently?”

“Hm? Ohh, my face. Yeah, no worries, just had a teensy weensy accident,” Atsumu waves it off. For a moment, he’d forgotten about his discolored nose. “You can thank my bodyguard for this monstrosity right here.”

Bokuto laughs and pats Atsumu’s back with a bit too much force as always. “Why don’t you and Sakusa help yourselves to some drinks? On the house, as always. We’ll catch up later.”

“This is why I love coming to your parties, Bokkun,” Atsumu grins and disentangles himself from his friend’s grip. He bids them goodbye and moves to grab a champagne glass from a passing waiter. It’s a well-rehearsed dance at this point, looking around at the guests walking around, trying to single out the available men. A few catch his eye, but when he thinks about it, not enough for him to really go for it.

He checks to see if Sakusa’s still following him, flashing him a slightly unsure smile when their eyes meet. He’s not quite sure how to take their earlier exchange. He’s relieved when Sakusa bows his head in acknowledgement. His smile brightens.

He spends the next couple of hours stealing champagne glasses and flitting around from person to person, making small talk and introducing himself to people he’s not familiar with. Every time he meets someone from MSBY he stays longer to have an actual conversation. Sometimes he invites a reluctant Sakusa into the group too, insisting that he should relax and have fun, too.

“You were invited by Bokuto, too,” he complains. “You can loosen up the professionalism for now.”

Sakusa just looks faintly uncomfortable. “I’d rather not. You can do the talking for both of us.”

Bokuto stops him by the elbow at one point to tell him he’s opening the gifts soon. It’s something he always does, even though he gets hundreds of presents every year. He gathers everyone around to watch him open gifts and yell excitedly about every single one. Atsumu once gifted him a glittery dildo as a joke just to see everyone’s faces when Bokuto pulled it out. It sort of backfired, because Bokuto had actually seemed pleased.

This time he actually has a nice gift.

…That he’s now realizing he left in the car, shit. He inhales. He _knew_ he had forgotten something. He looks around, hoping to see Sakusa return. The man had went to find the bathroom after making him promise he wouldn’t wander off.

Atsumu grimaces. He’s guessing going outside would be wandering off. He could just run, though. Just a quick dash and no one would be any wiser. It’s not like anything could happen here, anyway, the place is heavily guarded. He’ll just go, then.

“Hey, Bokkun, do me a favor? If you see Omi-kun somewhere without me, tell him I went to the car real quick. To clarify, if I’m already with him, don’t say a word. He’ll just get mad at me.”

Bokuto looks confused. “Sure.”

“Thanks, dude. I’ll buy you a drink someday.”

He looks around for Sakusa one more time before hesitantly making his way outside, leaving Bokuto to his party. The sun is already setting, filling the sky with pastel purples and pinks. He breathes in the fresh air and tries to remember where they left the car. Past the gate and on the side of the road, right?

The chatter and laughing get quieter as he trots down the brightly-lit driveway. Akaashi’s mansion really is beautiful. Atsumu sticks his hand under a stream of water raining down from a fountain as he passes by. It’s more peaceful out here than a few hours earlier, when guests were still arriving and mingling on the lawn.

Now that he thinks about it, he can’t see anyone, not even the guards who were patrolling the gate when they first walked in. He shivers and shoves his hands in the fur-lined pockets of his jacket. Maybe he should have waited for Sakusa, looking back. He’s suddenly missing the warmth and ambiance of the party.

Whatever. He’s almost there, anyway. And the gift is worth it. He had commissioned a painting of Bokuto and Akaashi that would look perfect on the wall of the mansion. He’s pretty sure those two aren’t just friends like they claim to be, so he’d taken the liberty to make the painting romantic. It feels like something Bokuto would go crazy for, especially since he told the artist to paint guns in the background. Bokuto’s two favorite things in one picture. It’s genius.

His steps falter when he smells something oddly familiar in the air. It’s metallic and similar to what he smells when he flosses for the first time after a long break. Blood.

Dread settles in his veins and he whips his head around to see the cause. He suddenly feels a chill spread throughout his body and he has to fight the urge to turn around and run back to the comforting mass of people. Maybe he’s mistaken. Maybe someone needs help.

He rounds the corner and feels his stomach drop. Right there on the street, half laying in the ditch, is one of the guards he saw earlier. He recognizes the face, but even if he didn’t, the ‘SECURITY’ written in bold letters on his back confirms it.

He gags at the sight even as he staggers closer on instinct. It’s hard to see on the black uniform, but the ground under him is flooding with blood. The scent is even more pungent up close and Atsumu presses his hands against his mouth to… what? Block out the smell? It’s too late for that.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispers and takes a step back. His legs are trembling. He needs to leave right now. Right fucking now. Alarm bells ring in his brain with deafening volume. He can’t stop staring at the dead guard.

He keeps backing away, hand already fumbling for his phone when his back collides with something solid. He flinches and tries to whirl around, but an arm encloses around his neck and he feels something cold against his temple. It makes him still, even as sharp fear threatens to buckle his knees. He’s still facing a dead body.

His captor blows air into his ear and chuckles when he flinches away. “Calm down. There’s no need to be scared. If you just come with me without any fuss, no one needs to die.”

Atsumu has to force his mouth to open, his eyes glued to the red dripping out of the guard’s parted lips. His voice comes out weak. “And him?”

There’s a low chuckle against his ear. “Didn’t have to happen. He poked his nose in shit he had no business being in. Doesn’t have to be you.”

Atsumu brings his hands up to grip the arm around his neck. He forces a breathy laugh. “Ya know, you’re not the first one to attempt something like this. You think you’re special? You’ll end up just like the rest of- ack!”

He gasps as the pressure on his neck tightens. He futilely tugs on the arm. Shit, he needs Sakusa. Is he wondering where Atsumu went? Has Bokuto already told him where he is? His vision blurs.

“Don’t get clever with me, boy,” the voice growls, deep and raspy. Someone older then, probably. Judging from the sturdy chest he’s pressed against and the thick arm under his chin he guesses the man is heavily built. If it comes to hands on fighting, Atsumu stands no chance. Especially when there’s a gun involved.

The man starts walking backwards, pulling a stumbling Atsumu with him. Fuck, he’s going to get strangled like this.

“That’s it, nice and slow,” his captor coos in his ear. Atsumu suppresses a disgusted shiver. “If you scream, I’ll blow your little brains out.”

“Fuck you,” Atsumu heaves out and winces when the gun digs harder into his temple.

He desperately tries to think of a plan. He can’t trust for Sakusa to get here on time before he’s whisked away and he’s also not eager to be held hostage again. He still doesn’t even know what this guy wants. Is he one of those who want to use him as a bargaining chip to get to Kita’s money or is he going to gut him the moment they get out of here? He doesn’t think he wants to find out.

Which means he’ll have to do something himself. He waits for an opportunity as he’s dragged along the empty street. That opportunity comes in the form of his captor getting momentarily distracted by a howling dog somewhere in the distance, his gun dropping down from its place against Atsumu’s temple. _Rookie mistake,_ he thinks and kicks his foot back as hard as he can.

The man grunts in pain as his heel connects with his knee. The resounding crack makes Atsumu feel sick, but it does its job; the man staggers back in pain, loosening his hold on his neck.

Atsumu doesn’t hesitate, he shakes out of the grip and runs. Adrenaline pumps through his body and makes him feel dizzy, but he powers through it and keeps going. A gunshot rings out behind him and something whizzes past his head. He ducks on instinct, a startled yelp escaping his mouth.

He shields his head with his hands as if that would actually protect him from bullets and keeps running even as bile gathers in his throat. Images of the security guard twisted in an unnatural position, eyes glassy and open, blood slowly spreading under him keep flashing in his mind like an unwelcome slideshow. And now he might join him if he can’t get away.

He hears the man cursing somewhere behind him as he ducks past the gate. Another bullet hits the metal next to him with a loud clang and his pace falters. He wonders faintly if any of the guests can hear the commotion.

“Miya!”

Atsumu raises his head at the familiar voice. Oh, thank God. He almost buckles in relief when he sees Sakusa running towards him, gun in his hand. Bokuto’s there too, but he’s farther away. He’s not who Atsumu is focused on, anyway.

“Miya, get down!”

The commanding tone and the sheer relief he’s not alone anymore makes him drop down, hitting the ground with a pained grunt. He squeezes his eyes shut when he hears more gunshots and yelling. The sounds blur together as he presses his hands to his ears to shut the noises out.

He has no idea what’s happening when someone drops to their knees next to him. He registers Sakusa’s firm voice commanding orders to Bokuto and he braves to finally open his eyes. He’s surprised to see Sakusa’s eyes wide open, frantically searching him for injuries.

It’s then that Atsumu registers he’s finally safe and allows himself to slump back to the ground. He reaches out to fumble for Sakusa’s hand, desperate to touch something solid. He uncharacteristically lets him take it and slots their fingers tightly together with a squeeze. “Are you hurt? Miya, look at me, are you hurt? Tell me where it hurts.”

There are hints of urgency in Sakusa’s voice and Atsumu lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. “’m fine. He didn’t get me, but he did get- oh, fuck, he got the guard, shit-“

His voice breaks and he feels tears bubbling in his eyes. Sakusa lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like relief. Atsumu lets him carefully prop him into a sitting position even as more fat tears drop down his cheeks. He sees Bokuto crouching over a crumpled man farther away, pressing a gun against his neck as he hisses something inaudible down at him. He’s distantly aware of the crowd forming behind them, but he’s more focused on the oppressing heaviness squeezing down on his chest and the calming presence of Sakusa next to him.

“Close your eyes,” he says quietly and Atsumu turns to him only to see him already looking back. “You don’t want to see it happen.”

“Oh,” Atsumu’s breath rattles in his chest and he lowers his gaze. Warm palms settle over his ears and he presses his own over Sakusa’s. He still flinches when the final gunshot rings out.

He sits there, ears ringing and breath coming out in choppy bursts as Bokuto moves closer, not seeming to care about the splattered blood all over his shirt. His expression is serious as he talks on the phone, eyebrows pinched together. He’s probably talking to Kita, Atsumu realizes distantly. Because someone died.

“Omi, he- the guard-“

Sakusa hushes him. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of it. Don’t think about it right now, okay? It’s not your problem.”

Atsumu nods shakily and wipes a hand over his wet eyes. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I just… The gift-“

He can’t quite form the words properly and his consonants jumble together, but Sakusa seems to understand. “We’ll talk about it later. Can you stand up?”

Atsumu takes his offered hand and they get up together, albeit a bit shakily on his part. Few glances to his surroundings tell him someone’s herded the guests back inside. Atsumu’s just glad no one else is witnessing this right now. He can’t even imagine what damage control they’ll have to do.

Bokuto pockets his phone as he reaches them and twirls his gun in his hand thoughtfully.

“Well, I got what I needed from that guy,” he nods to the body behind him and Atsumu averts his eyes again. “He’s from Kiyokawa and apparently they’re still bitter we interfered with their drug deal with Karasuno couple of months ago. Remember that? They didn’t mean to target Atsumu specifically, he just happened to be there. Bad timing, is all.”

Sakusa considers the information for a moment before nodding. “You informed Kita-san?”

Bokuto nods and gives Atsumu a smile. “He said he’d take care of it. He wants to see Tsum-Tsum though, so you’d probably better go. I think I need to deal with all these people here before coming too.”

Atsumu suddenly feels horrible. He shakes his head miserably. “No, Bokkun, it’s your birthday, you shouldn’t have to deal with this shit. I’m sorry for ruining your party.”

“Nah,” Bokuto waves a hand and laughs cheerfully. How he manages to be like that even after all this is beyond Atsumu, who’s still shaking like a leaf. “Shit happens. If it hadn’t been you it would’ve been someone else. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

It doesn’t make Atsumu feel any better. He keeps his eyes carefully away from the bleeding corpse laying still on the ground. His first dead body. Second, actually. Fuck.

Sakusa shifts just enough to subtly position himself between the body and Atsumu, and he sends him a grateful glance. Sakusa doesn’t look back at him.

“Let’s go. Your brother and Kita-san are probably waiting,” Sakusa says and nudges Atsumu forward. He goes easily, relieved to finally go home.

“Bye, Bokkun,” he says to Bokuto quietly. “Tell Akaashi I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Bokuto tells him and claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you.”

Atsumu and Sakusa walk to the car in tense silence. Atsumu can’t help but notice Sakusa being closer than usual, eyes scouring their surroundings, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Sakusa breaks the silence only after they’re back home, parked next to the HQ. He grips the steering wheel and stares forward at nothing. It takes him a moment to say anything. “I’m sorry. I let you get hurt. I should’ve been there, gotten there earlier.”

Atsumu shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I-“ he swallows. “You told me to stay inside and I didn’t.”

He chuckles bitterly and looks at his hands. “Besides, I’m not hurt. That’s because of you. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Sakusa breathes in deeply and finally removes his eyes from the road to look at him. “You’re hurt. Not physically, but there’s other types of pain. You saw something no one should ever have to see and I’m sorry for that.”

Atsumu feels small under Sakusa’s heavy gaze and musters a tiny smile. “Well, at least I get to add another section to my list.”

The joke falls flat, but Sakusa huffs out a small laugh anyway. Atsumu takes it as a victory. “Is Kita going to kill you or just fire you, what d’you think?”

“Probably both,” Sakusa responds and gets out of the car. Atsumu follows, both dreading and looking forward to see Kita. He’s pretty sure he’s going to get chewed the fuck out.

..

He was right. He sits there quietly, ears burning because both Osamu and Sakusa are there, witnesses to his scolding.

“Unbelievable. _Unbelievable._ You get told to do one thing and you can’t even do that,” Kita rants as he paces back and forth in his office. He turns to Atsumu with exasperation on his face. “ _One thing,_ Atsumu. Don’t go anywhere without Sakusa and you left him for a _gift_? What were you thinking?”

Atsumu sinks down further in his seat. “I don’t know. I didn’t think anything would happen. It was supposed to be a quick thing. Grab the gift and go back. I didn’t think anyone was following.”

Kita sighs heavily and stops his pacing to lean against his desk. He suddenly looks exhausted. “Atsumu. You need to take this entire thing more seriously. I didn’t assign Sakusa to you just for fun. Things happen, no matter where you are or how quick you think you’re being. You saw that today.”

Atsumu nods meekly. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you.” Kita pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit. You almost… it could’ve happened.”

“I’m okay. Kita, I’m okay, I’m alive.”

Kita’s hands fall to his thighs and he looks at Atsumu, rare vulnerability written on his face. “And thank God for that. Shit, kid, you can’t keep scaring me like that.”

“I know. Trust me, you weren’t the only one scared,” Atsumu whispers and rubs a tired hand over his face. It makes Kita sigh and then nod.

“Okay. This is my last warning though, you do something reckless again and I _will_ chain you to my desk. Got it?”

Atsumu wraps his arms around himself and nods. “Yeah, I got it.”

Kita exhales. “Good. Good. Go get some sleep, yeah? You’re sure you’re okay?”

Atsumu hesitates. He’s not. “I am. I just wanna go to bed.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”

Atsumu gets up, Sakusa in front of him doing the same. Kita hadn’t actually gotten mad at him, after Atsumu had explained what had happened. He’d made sure to emphasize Sakusa’s innocence in it all. No use in him getting in trouble for something Atsumu had done by himself.

Osamu intercepts him by the door, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him in a quick hug. It’s brief, but it leaves Atsumu wide-eyed all the same. They don’t do physical affection, never have. Still, it spreads warmth inside him.

“Call me later, ‘kay? I’ll listen,” his brother murmurs in his ear and pulls away. He finds Atsumu’s gaze and holds it for a moment. Atsumu finds himself nodding without even having to think about it.

“Yeah. I will.”

Osamu gives him a soft, sympathetic smile and moves to let them pass. Atsumu glances back over his shoulder to see both Osamu and Kita watching him leave. Sakusa closes the door behind them.

Atsumu lets him direct him all the way to the apartment, following along like in a trance. He’s suddenly so exhausted, even if he has a feeling he won’t get a lick of sleep tonight.

Sakusa seems to have the same idea, if the way he doesn’t immediately stalk off to his room is any indication. He just stands there, leaning against the door and watches Atsumu slump down on the couch. They stand there in silence before Sakusa walks past him, disappearing from view.

Atsumu doesn’t have to wonder about his whereabouts long, because he comes right back with a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. He sets them on the table and sits down next to Atsumu. He glances at him sideways in surprise. “That’s new. We’re drinking together, now?”

Sakusa stays quiet long enough that Atsumu thinks he’s not going to answer. His voice is slightly raspy when he finally says something, moving to pour alcohol in both glasses. “Thought you might need it.”

Atsumu takes the offered drink and stares down at the liquid. “And you?”

Sakusa doesn’t answer, just takes a swig. Atsumu follows suit, grimacing at the burn the alcohol creates in his throat. It’s good just as much as it is unpleasant.

They sit in silence on both ends of the couch, staring at the blank TV. The longer Atsumu sits there, the more aware he is of the pressure building behind his eyes. He knows what it means, having done his fair share of crying in his life. It’s like a never-ending tragedy, one unfortunate event after another. He chuckles wetly, touching his damp cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

“I think maybe I should have followed in dad’s footprints, become a yakuza too,” he confesses, breaking the silence between them.

Sakusa looks at him, dark eyes boring into his side-profile. Atsumu doesn’t have the courage to face him. After a moment, he responds. “You made the right choice.”

“How?” Atsumu laughs brokenly, clutching his half-empty glass tightly. “This shit keeps happening because I’m not like you. Maybe if I could just do what you do, they’d leave me alone.”

Sakusa hums. “Maybe. But tell me honestly, how did seeing that dead guard make you feel?”

Atsumu glances at him. “You know how it made me feel. Bad. Nauseous.” He pauses. “Guilty.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Sakusa says quietly. “But if you were like me, it would be. Hundreds of lives, dead by your hand. Think you could handle that?”

Atsumu considers that, before shaking his head in defeat. “No. No, I don’t think I could. I feel like he’s burned onto my eyelids, I can’t get him out of my brain.”

“There’s no shame in having a conscience. If seeing someone die makes you sad, that just tells you you’re a good person.”

After a moment of hesitation, Atsumu tells him: “You’re a good person too.”

“Am I?” Sakusa scoffs sardonically, and it’s bitter enough to make Atsumu turn to him completely.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re an asshole. But you’re not a bad person. You take care of me even though we don’t get along.”

“If you knew me, you wouldn’t be saying that.” And there it is, the pain from earlier coloring his voice. Atsumu hesitates.

“Is this… is it about what I asked you back in the car? About,” he swallows, “killing someone innocent?”

Sakusa swirls his glass, lets the liquid slosh around. His jaw clenches, looking almost painful, and Atsumu suppresses the sudden need to reach over and smooth it with a finger. He folds his hands underneath his thighs.

“My mom died from a brain tumor,” he says suddenly and Sakusa looks up at him with brief shock before his face smooths over again. “I was eight when they first noticed it. I didn’t really understand it back then. She would start vomiting in the mornings and dad wouldn’t let me sleep next to her anymore. And then she started forgetting things. She would forget me and ‘Samu were in the house with her, so then she wasn’t allowed to be alone with us anymore.”

Sakusa looks at him with something unreadable in his eyes, but he doesn’t do anything to interrupt him, so he continues.

“She worsened really fast,” Atsumu looks down and tries to will the tears back. “They took her to the hospital and she… she died when I was ten. I wasn’t there, neither was ‘Samu. We were at school and only found out afterwards. I didn’t really get to say goodbye while she was still lucid and it… it hurts sometimes.”

A tear drips down his cheek to the corner of his mouth and he tastes salt. It feels painful to bring the memories to the surface, but also good to finally say them out loud. He sniffs and reaches for his glass again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just thought maybe it could feel nice to tell someone.”

They let the silence settle again, but it doesn’t quite feel as oppressive anymore. Atsumu slides down until his head rests against the back of the couch and his eyes catch onto the green lamp sitting in the corner, small and unassuming. Atsumu lets his lips curve into a soft smile, this time genuine. The lamp is shaped like a frog.

Sakusa follows his eyes and they stare at the lamp they bought together for a moment. When he finally speaks, it startles Atsumu. “Do you know what one of my first assignments was when I joined MSBY?”

He shakes his head mutely. He doesn’t.

“A standard procedure, something I’ve done countless of times since. Visiting those who have borrowed money from us and intimidating them into paying back their debts. You know what happens if they refuse?”

“You kill them,” Atsumu answers in a small voice. He remembers his conversation with Hinata from what seems like ages ago.

“Yes. My first kill in the business. It was my brother.”

Atsumu chokes and turns to stare at him in shock. “What?”

Sakusa meets his eyes. “It was the first time I’d seen him in years. I had no idea he’d gotten involved in that stuff. I pleaded him to just pay, but he said he didn’t have the money. I had to do it.”

He exhales heavily and looks down. “He wasn’t innocent, but he was my brother.”

Atsumu’s breath comes out stuttering as he imagines what it must be like to do something like that to your own brother. If it was Osamu…

“That’s… that’s horrible. Omi, I-”

“It was a long time ago,” Sakusa interrupts him and downs the rest of his liquor. “I’m long past crying over the things I do.”

Atsumu stays quiet, mulling over the information. “It doesn’t make you a bad person. What you did. Or what you do now.”

Sakusa just inhales and presses his lips together. Atsumu regards him before reaching for the alcohol and offering it to him. He takes the bottle wordlessly and brings it straight to his lips. Atsumu settles on the couch again and stares at Sakusa’s bobbing Adam’s apple.

“You know what this is, Omi?” he asks after a while, when his tears have dried and his heart doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal sound. “What?”

“We’re bonding over our trauma. That makes us friends.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“It does. You don’t get a say in this. We’re friends.”

Sakusa gives him an exasperated look but doesn’t say anything to deny it. Atsumu turns his head to smother a smile on the couch.


	4. Bed And Boyfriend (not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inherent eroticism of teaching someone to shoot. also y'all, pls know i read and appreciate all of the comments, i just have a hard time answering bc of anxiety. i love you <33

Atsumu jolts awake with a choked gasp, eyes shooting open. It takes him a moment to realize where he is, and another moment to calm himself down enough to breathe. He looks around. The covers around him feel restrictive, like they’re trying to bury him alive. Or maybe like they’re trying to strangle him, tightening around his neck like the suffocating arm of a stranger.

He kicks the blankets off of himself and presses a hand against his racing heart. His skin feels clammy under his fingers and when he looks down, his chest is covered by a sheen layer of sweat. It’s gross and uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to go shower. He’ll just sweat again later when he goes back to sleep.

He knows exactly why he woke up gasping and terrified. It’s not the first time he’s had a nightmare, but it is the first time it featured a dead body so realistic it felt more like a memory. His chest pangs when he thinks about it. He thought he was okay, that he was over whatever transpired at Bokuto’s party, but the anxiety crawling up his throat begs to differ.

Sakusa told him not to feel guilty, that it wasn’t his fault and maybe he’s right. He wasn’t even there when the security guard died, and if what Bokuto said was true, they weren’t even after Atsumu. The guard would have died regardless. But still…

_I could’ve done something,_ he convinces himself. He could have gotten there earlier, maybe he could have called an ambulance or, or even stop him from getting shot, he could have done something.

He chokes on a sob and claps his hands over his mouth. Pathetic, you’re pathetic, suck it up, you idiot.

He swings his legs over the edge of bed and clambers up on unsteady feet. He can’t be alone right now. Taking his pillow and blanket he pads across the apartment to Sakusa’s door, raising his fist to hover over the door. He hesitates. Sakusa wouldn’t want him interrupting his sleep.

Atsumu takes a step back, the floor creaking under his bare feet. His breathing is uneasy and he still feels the tendrils of anxiety from his nightmare swirling in his chest. He feels like a child, but he really doesn’t want to sleep alone if it can be helped. He could just sneak in, make camp on Sakusa’s floor or something without having to wake him up.

He makes a decision and reaches to twist the door handle carefully. He winces when the door makes a tiny creak and pushes it open. He barely gets one foot in the room when he’s getting grabbed by the wrists and slammed into the door. He yelps, his pillow and blanket falling to the floor.

“Fuck, it’s just me, Omi! Shit.”

A tense pause.

“Miya?” Sakusa’s voice is disbelieving and his grip on Atsumu’s wrists loosens but doesn’t let go. “What the fuck are you doing, sneaking around behind my door at midnight?”

Atsumu blinks his eyes open and meets Sakusa’s dark eyes probing into his. They’re glinting in the darkness and Atsumu swallows. He can’t help but notice how close they are even through his distress, Sakusa’s warm body pressing against his, wrists still pinned against the door.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he offers in a gravelly voice. He sounds like he hasn’t drank water in years.

Sakusa takes in the slight trembles of Atsumu’s loosely fisted hands and the tired eyebags under his eyes. “And you came to terrorize me?”

Atsumu huffs. “You’re the one terrorizing me, I’d say. Let go of me.”

Sakusa releases him and takes a step back. “Was it another nightmare?”

Atsumu’s about to agree, but then the words register in his brain. “How do you know I’ve had nightmares?”

Sakusa gives him a deadpan look. “I have ears. And eyes. Every day you look even worse than the previous. Do you own a mirror?”

“Fuck you,” Atsumu sighs. “Why did ya never say anything?”

Sakusa doesn’t avert his eyes. “Didn’t think it was my place. What are you doing here?”

Atsumu looks down at his feet pointedly, squishes his pillow under his toes. “You have to ask?”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to sleep in my room. Especially since you apparently weren’t even planning on asking for any.”

Frustration blooms in Atsumu’s chest. He’s tired and scared and trembling and just wants to go to sleep and feel safe. Why can’t people just give him that? “Omi, please. Just. Please.”

He can’t quite bring himself to meet Sakusa’s probing eyes, instead keeps his gaze somewhere on his left. His chest is still heaving and he tries to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

“Fine.”

The words startle Atsumu. He wasn’t quite expecting to be allowed in, it’s why he was sneaking in in the first place. His head snaps up to look at Sakusa, who stares back with dark eyes. “Huh?”

“Fine,” Sakusa repeats and moves out of the way. Atsumu hesitantly bends down to pick up his blanket and pillow before straightening with a dubious look.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want to sleep here or not?”

“No, I do. Just… you’re okay with it?”

Sakusa blows out some air and pushes his hair back from his face. “My job is to make sure _you’re_ okay. Doesn’t matter what I think about it.”

Atsumu frowns. “That’s definitely not what that means. Your job is to make sure I don’t get killed, not to coddle me or something. If I’m making you uncomfortable, say it.”

“Miya.” Sakusa’s voice is quiet, heavy with something. It draws Atsumu’s attention. “Get inside.”

Atsumu moves automatically, back departing from the door. Sakusa closes it behind him. “Why were you attacking me anyway? It’s not like it could’ve been anyone else.”

Sakusa’s tone behind him is dry. “You want to stay alive, you don’t take chances. It could easily have been someone else.”

Atsumu glances at him. He doesn’t really know what to do now that he’s standing in the middle of Sakusa’s room, clutching his pillow to his chest. The room itself is moderate size, the bed messy. Obviously Sakusa had been sleeping before Atsumu had come knocking. He feels a bit guilty. “I’m just gonna take the floor. I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

Sakusa doesn’t give him a response, just climbs back to his bed. Nodding, Atsumu kneels down on the floor and fluffs the pillow before laying down and pulling the blanket over him. It’s uncomfortable, the chilly wooden surface digging into his back and raising goosebumps on his bare arms. He shifts to get into a better position. After a while, he speaks.

“Omi?”

“Hm.”

“You think I should learn to shoot a gun?”

There’s a pause, and he waits for Sakusa’s response.

“If you want.”

“Would you teach me?”

“You want me to teach you? Not Osamu?”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t think he’d want Osamu to know. There’s something weirdly vulnerable in admitting he wants to learn how to protect himself. What he doesn’t get is why he’s okay telling Sakusa and not his own brother.

“I wanna learn from the best. And unless everyone’s been lying, that would be you. What, you disagree?” he teases. It’s always come to him easier than being serious.

Sakusa huffs from his bed. It sounds amused, Atsumu thinks. Did he make Sakusa laugh?

“I’ll teach you. Only if you’re sure.”

“Sure about what? About you?”

“About wanting to learn to shoot. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable? That you might have to do it to a real person someday?”

Atsumu considers it, rolling on his back. His eyes have gotten used to the dark, and he traces the lines of the ceiling. “Nah. I mean, better than to be dead, right? And anyway, as long as you’re with me, I won’t need to actually do anything. It’s just a precaution.”

Sakusa scoffs. “I wouldn’t be so sure with the way you keep running around without telling me where you are.”

“Um, literally only once,” Atsumu says, indignant. “And it won’t happen again. From now on, I won’t even use the toilet without your supervision.”

“Mm. Tell Kita-san to up my paygrade and then we’ll talk.”

Atsumu gasps, peering in the darkness to try and catch Sakusa’s outline. “Omi-kun! Did you just make a joke?”

“It wasn’t a joke. I really don’t get paid enough for this.”

“Nah. You let me here on your own volition. I think you really care about me.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

“It does,” Atsumu smiles and turns to his side. “It really does.”

They fall into a silence, like they so often do, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. It’s nice, actually. Atsumu doesn’t even remember what his nightmare was about anymore.

The floor is still uncomfortable as fuck, though. He turns from side to side, tries tucking his blanket under him to soften the surface, but nothing really makes it feel better. He thinks about getting more pillows for his makeshift bed, but he doesn’t think Sakusa owns more pillows than absolutely necessary. He huffs.

“Are you planning on going to sleep anytime soon?” Sakusa asks him wryly. Atsumu smiles sheepishly.

“Oops. Am I bothering you?”

“Guess. What is it this time?”

“Um. The floor is a bit… floory. I mean, it’s fine, I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I like your floor. It’s very cute.” He tilts his head. “Maybe not that much for sleeping.”

Sakusa sighs, sounding very annoyed. “Come here.”

Atsumu pauses, listens to Sakusa’s even breathing. He must have misheard. “Huh?”

“Are you always this unintelligent?” Sakusa sounds irritated. “Come here. Take your own blanket.”

Gathering his things, Atsumu clambers up and goes to stand next to the bed, trepidation filling his body. He laughs nervously. “You’re not gonna kill me or something, right?”

Sakusa blinks at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Get on the bed.”

Atsumu’s mouth opens in surprise. What the fuck? “Oh. Um. Is this…?”

“Obviously not,” Sakusa looks unamused. “I’m letting you sleep on my bed.”

Well, now Atsumu feels really stupid. Obviously Sakusa wouldn’t proposition him. Obviously. “Right. That’s… No, for sure, I wouldn’t wanna sleep with you either.”

“Can you just get in and shut up.” Sakusa suddenly sounds tired and Atsumu hurries to lie down. He sighs when his back sinks in the soft mattress. It’s infinitely better than the hard floor.

It’s a bit weird to sleep next to Sakusa. The bed is big, and they’re not actually touching, but he can feel the warmth emanating from the elder. If he turned around, he could see Sakusa unguarded and sleepy, but he’s not going to do that. He has more self-discipline than that.

He peeks to his side, only to meet Sakusa’s steady gaze. He flinches. Busted. “Hi there, Omi-Omi. Really nice of you to let me sleep in your bed. Probably saved me from a visit to the chiropractor.”

“If you want to sleep here, keep your mouth shut. Make one sound and you’re going outside.”

It’s a little humiliating how that makes arousal bloom in Atsumu’s stomach. Damn Omi and his affinity to unknowingly cater to Atsumu’s kinks. He coughs and nods to cover it up, miming zipping his lips up. “Absolutely. Not one peep. I gotcha.”

With that, Sakusa turns his back to him and Atsumu does the same. End of the conversation. Atsumu can take a hint, even if he wants to continue talking. It’s a rare opportunity, to be with Sakusa like this.

He’s surprised to find himself relaxing enough to close his eyes and let his thoughts settle. The steady, quiet breathing behind him keeps him grounded, reminds him he’s not alone, he’s safe. It’s comforting, and Atsumu falls asleep faster than he has in weeks. There’s a pattern there, if he thought to look at it properly.

Waking up has always been hard for him. It takes him a while to orient himself, to realize he’s actually awake. He cracks open one eye, squinting at the sunlight peeking through the blinds. He’s warm, warmer than he was last night.

He realizes why pretty quickly after opening his eyes. He’s somehow managed to maneuver himself to Sakusa’s side of the bed and latch onto his arm like an octopus. He’s cradling the limb close to his chest, nose pressed to a shoulder. Interesting.

He peeks at Sakusa’s face, seeing his eyes closed and his chest rise and fall in a steady manner. He’s still asleep, whew. Atsumu doesn’t think Sakusa would appreciate having someone cling to him like this. He pulls away slowly, unwinding his arms from around Sakusa’s and rolling onto the other side. The sheets are cool under him and he immediately misses the earlier warmth.

Sighing, he sits up, blanket pooling at his waist, and turns his head to look at Sakusa again. It’s really not fair to look that good, even asleep. His face is smooth and calm, his hair falling over his eyes instead of sticking up like a porcupine – that’s what Atsumu’s hair likes to do – and he doesn’t even snore. No snot on his face either. Life is unfair and especially cruel to Atsumu.

It strikes him how domestic it is to sleep in the same bed with another person, wake up cuddling their arm and then watch them sleep. It’s like they’re dating. Except they’re not, and suddenly Atsumu understands some things about himself.

..

What’s the first thing you do when you realize you might actually like your bodyguard slash babysitter slash roommate for more than just their looks? You cook them breakfast, obviously.

Atsumu is in the middle of pulling out eggs and cheese from the fridge when Sakusa walks out of his room, brushing back his curls with a tired squint. He goes to get a glass, filling it with water while giving Atsumu suspicious glances. “What are you doing?”

“Good morning, Omi!” Atsumu chirps and tries his hardest not to look at the collarbone that peeks out of Sakusa’s sinful tank top. “I decided to make breakfast for you, to thank you for letting me sleep with you – in your bed, that is – last night. Aren’t you thankful?”

Sakusa nods slowly, not taking his eyes off what Atsumu is doing even when he drinks his water. “It’s a nice gesture, but may I remind you that you don’t know how to cook?”

Atsumu scoffs and adjusts the heat on the stove. He has the instructions on how to make an omelette on his phone. “Have some faith in me, Omi. How hard is it to cook some eggs? There are like… two steps.”

“Okay,” Sakusa acquiesces, leaning back, but keeping alert eyes on the pan. “If you don’t know something, please ask. I like my kitchen intact.”

“Absolutely. You can trust me,” Atsumu reassures and pours oil on the pan. It immediately catches on fire.

With a yelp, Atsumu jumps back, trying to get away from the flames. They’re not huge but fuck if Atsumu’s going to catch on fire from fucking eggs.

Sakusa immediately jumps into action, lunging forward to shut the heat off and to put the lid Atsumu had taken out earlier over the pan. The flames smother out, and Sakusa moves the pan to another burner. He turns around to look at Atsumu who’s still cowering a few feet away. “What the fuck.”

Atsumu can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. He grabs the counter behind him and laughs so hard he thinks he’s crying. All the while Sakusa watches him with a deadpan face.

“Holy shit, I messed up eggs,” Atsumu gasps when his laughter wanes into tiny giggles. Sakusa huffs.

“You didn’t even get to the part with the eggs,” he corrects. “I’m never letting you in my kitchen ever again.”

“I’m sorry! I thought it would be easy.”

“It is easy. You’re just horrible.”

Atsumu crosses his arms in amusement. “Okay, _Gordon Ramsay._ You get to make the breakfast then.”

“If it keeps you away from the stove, gladly.”

Sakusa does make them breakfast, an omelette that’s way better than whatever Atsumu could have come up with. They sit on either side of the round table and eat in silence. Atsumu thinks back to their conversation from the previous night.

“Did you mean what you said? That you’d teach me to use a gun?”

Sakusa looks up at him, leans back in his chair and folds his newspaper. “Yes. If that’s what you want.”

“You think it’s a good idea?” Atsumu questions. “I would probably suck.”

“That’s why I would teach you,” Sakusa responds, his lips quirking up in amusement. “No one’s good on their first try.”

“Were you?”

“I wasn’t. I learned, just like everyone else. You can too. Shouldn’t take too much time to learn the basics.”

Atsumu pushes his eggs with a fork. “Has Kita said anything about… you know, if he’s found anything out?”

“It’s a work in progress. He’s been asking around, but it’s hard when there are no leads. The cameras in your apartment were tampered with, so we have no idea who did it. He’s not even sure if that person or persons are connected to the assassination attempt.”

Sakusa frowns, looking thoughtful. “He’s even suspecting it could be someone from inside. Someone who knows you personally.”

Atsumu stares at him. “Why would you say that? Now I’m going to be suspicious of everyone I meet.”

Sakusa shrugs and crosses his arms. “You probably should. Trusting people is usually a mistake.”

“Nah. Shut the fuck up. That type of cynicism,” Atsumu points a fork at him, “is forbidden. Good people exist, Omi, you’re allowed to believe that.”

“Good people can still hurt you,” he counters, meeting Atsumu’s eyes steadily.

“Yeah, and then you just have to move on and try again. That’s life, Omi.”

They stare at each other, Sakusa searching his eyes. He nods slowly. “If you say so.”

“I do say so!” Atsumu grins and pushes back his chair to stand up. “And now I say we go shoot some guns.”

..

For some reason, MSBY has a shooting range. It makes sense, sort of, but Atsumu somehow thought every member just joined with perfect skills.

“Some people come here to just ease tension, not only for practice,” Sakusa tells him, offering him a pair of earmuffs. “Don’t put them on yet.”

Atsumu sets them on the counter and turns back to look at Sakusa. “This feels sort of like exposure therapy, it’s weird.”

Sakusa gives him a sharp glance. “Therapy?”

“Mm, okay, hold on,” Atsumu holds up a finger. “That sounds like I have trauma because of guns or whatever. I don’t. Just haven’t had the most pleasant experience with them.”

“Which means you have trauma.”

Atsumu frowns. _“No._ There’s no trauma, you’re exaggerating.”

Sakusa searches his face with a dubious look before narrowing his eyes. “Right.”

“Can we just get to the guns?”

Sakusa sighs and picks up a gun, similar to his own. He holds it up. “This a Glock. It’s semi-automatic, which means when you pull the trigger, only one shot gets fired. If you want to shoot multiple times, you have to pull the trigger every time. Get it?”

Atsumu nods, eyeing the gun. He’s seen them in movies, has a basic understanding on how they work. Sakusa points at different parts of the gun, explaining them as he goes along. “That’s the slide, you pull it back when loading the gun. Here’s the safety. Always keep it on unless you’re planning on shooting.”

He shows how to properly hold it, before giving it to Atsumu. “Try holding it. Don’t grip with the pinky. There you go, steady it with your other hand.”

Atsumu grins at him. “Am I doing it right? It feels pretty badass.”

Sakusa huffs out a small laugh and reaches over to adjust his grip. “Almost. Don’t let your fingers touch the slide, it could snag your skin. Now it’s correct.”

He prompts Atsumu to turn to the target. “Try to aim it. Don’t try to shoot yet.”

Atsumu raises his arms, tries to align the sights like Sakusa told him. He closes his other eye. “Jesus Christ, that’s actually hard. Am I even close?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see from here,” Sakusa tells him in an amused voice behind him.

“Well, come look then. I want my first shot to be perfect,” Atsumu says without even thinking, half-joking. It would be impossible for him to look from Atsumu’s point of view unless he-

A warm body presses close against his back, enveloping him in heat. Atsumu startles, almost knocks Sakusa in the face with the back of his head. “What the fuck?”

Sakusa chuckles, his breath hitting Atsumu’s neck, making him break out in goosebumps. He brings his hands to Atsumu’s, lifting them up where he’d dropped them in surprise. “Calm down. You wanted me to come look. You dropped your aim, do it again.”

Atsumu fights back a shudder and takes a deep breath. He’s stronger than this, he can ignore the man literally glued to his back, easy peasy. Even if the position reminds him of something else, something he- nope. Not going there. _Focus,_ Atsumu tells himself.

“I swear you’re doing this just to throw me off,” Atsumu accuses him and tries to refocus his aim, even if his hands are slightly trembling. It’s okay, he can blame that on the coffee he had during breakfast.

“Am I throwing you off?” Sakusa asks, holding Atsumu’s hands again, keeping them in place. “That’s the place. Keep it there. Why am I throwing you off?”

Is he serious? There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to Atsumu right now, there’s no fucking way. Atsumu swallows, hopes that Sakusa doesn’t hear. Maybe he’s just teasing him about his childhood crush on him. It would be cruel, but also pretty in-character of Sakusa.

“Who wouldn’t be distracted when they have someone talking in their ear?” Atsumu says instead. “Do I shoot now?”

“Hold on,” comes the answer and the hands on his own disappear. A pair of earmuffs gets placed on his ears, muffling the outside sounds. Instead Atsumu can hear his own heart beating fast in his ears, blood rushing in his head at impressive speed.

Sakusa doesn’t move away, just slides his hands along Atsumu’s arms to his wrists again. He’s so close Atsumu can hear him even through the earmuffs. “Now you can. Load it.”

He pulls back the slide, taking a deep breath to steady the gun. He feels a tap on his wrist. “Safety.”

“Oh.” He takes off the safety, feeling more than hearing Sakusa’s pleased hum. He tries to match Sakusa’s breathing against his back, before curling a finger on the trigger and pulling.

The recoil jerks him back, Sakusa stabilizing him with his body. The gunshot is still loud even with the earmuffs and he winces. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sound.

The warmth on his back steps back, releasing his hands. He drops his arms, turns around to face Sakusa. His earmuffs get picked off his ears and all the sounds come rushing back. Sakusa looks vaguely pleased, but then again it could just be his face. He nods toward the target.

“Hit him in the head. Pretty good for your first time,” he says.

Atsumu releases a stuttering breath. Phantom heat tingles down his back. “Yeah, ‘cause you literally aimed the gun for me. I just pulled the trigger.”

Sakusa’s eyes are dark when they meet Atsumu’s. “You said you wanted your first shot to be perfect. Do it again, this time by yourself.”

Neither of them are surprised when Atsumu’s own attempts end up straying from the target with varying distances. One of the shots manages to hit the target’s arm and he laughs. “How the fuck do you do this without even thinking? Just pulling the gun out and baam. It hits someone between the eyes.”

Sakusa takes the gun from his hands and releases the magazine. “Practice. And experience. I’ve been doing this for a decade, you’re bound to learn some things.”

Atsumu tells him to shoot too, just to see the difference between them. Again, to no one’s surprise, Sakusa hits every shot in the same place on the target’s forehead. It’s impressive. Also a bit sexy, but that’s not something Atsumu should be thinking.

It’s depressing, thinking about his stupid feelings and how they’re definitely not requited, so he just doesn’t. It’s hard, now that Sakusa’s gone and given him concrete evidence of what it could be like to touch him and even sleep in the same bed with him, fucking hell. He’s obviously out to make Atsumu’s life as hard as possible.

He manages for a few days. He’s proud he makes it that far, because the amount of frustration and unwanted boners he’s gotten in those few days is a lot. He can’t deal with it anymore. He needs to get laid, right the fuck now.

It would help get rid of his pent-up sexual frustration and maybe also get over his crush at the same time. He has a plan. He obviously can’t go to any clubs to try and find a hookup, because the last time he did, his apartment got trashed. Maybe not a good idea during the current circumstances.

That’s why he has a plan B and that plan comes in the form of Inunaki Shion. A member of the Black Jackals, also Atsumu’s occasional fuckbuddy.

They’re friends, sort of. They’re not that close, but they get along just fine. He had been a new recruit a few years ago and Atsumu had immediately set his eyes on him. It took a bit of time and seduction to get him to bed, because apparently he didn’t want to do anything to anger Kita when he was still new. Atsumu had gotten written permission from Kita that he was free to sleep with whoever he wanted, just to convince him. He was 19 at the time, and obviously Kita didn’t give a shit who he fucked as long as he was safe, but it worked.

They’ve kept their casual sex going since, hitting each other up every few months if needed. It’s nice, because Atsumu knows and trusts Inunaki. He knows his body and in turn, Inunaki knows his. There’s also no risk of catching feelings, which is exactly what Atsumu needs right now.

He does need to warn Sakusa first, though. It’s just common courtesy. A bit awkward, but manageable. They’re doing the dishes, Sakusa scrubbing and Atsumu drying, when he clears his throat.

“So. I’m going to be gone tonight, probably. Visiting Inunaki,” he says as casually as he can. He doesn’t know if he should mention the sex part.

Sakusa glances at him and passes him a plate. “Why?”

Atsumu splutters. “I- Why? Just because. We’re friends and I haven’t seen him in a while. That’s why.”

“Do I need to come too?”

“No!” Atsumu rushes to answer. “You definitely do not. He’s just down the hall, there’s no danger. Just stay here. I’ll be gone a few hours at most.”

Sakusa hums. “Okay. I’m going to trust you to not do anything stupid. Don’t go anywhere, keep your phone on and don’t invite anyone else.”

Atsumu snorts and whacks Sakusa with his towel. “It’s literally like having a dad again. It’s weird, stop doing it.”

Sakusa grabs the towel and yanks it from his hands. “I’m trying to keep you safe. Start drying, I’ve given you multiple plates already.”

Atsumu makes a face but grabs a plate anyway. He hopes Sakusa hasn’t realized what he’s actually going to do with Inunaki. He doesn’t even know why, it’s not like he would even care, but it just feels better to not tell him.

..

He texts Inunaki a quick ‘r u home?’ text and waits for the response. It comes quickly.

_‘Yeah, you wanna hook up?’_

He sends a simple _yes_ before getting up and hollering a goodbye to Sakusa who doesn’t even answer. Asshole.

Just as he said earlier, Inunaki’s apartment is close by, on the same level as Sakusa’s. He knocks on the door, testing the knob once to see if it’s locked. He knocks again, impatient. He hears the lock click before the door swings open, a shirtless Inunaki on the other side.

“What’s the damn rush? I thought you’d take some time.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and pushes into the apartment, using his foot to close the door behind him. “I already took a shower before I texted you. Do you want to have kinky sex or not?”

Inunaki eyes him even as he unbuckles his belt. “What happened?”

Atsumu pauses, shirt already halfway off. Of course Inunaki would ask. He really only requests rough sex when he wants to be distracted. He pulls the shirt off. “You’re gonna laugh.”

Large hands slide down his sides, pulling him closer by the waist. Inunaki gives him his best puppy eyes. “I won’t. Unless it’s really stupid, in which case, yes. I will laugh.”

Atsumu huffs out a laugh and unzips Inunaki’s slacks, pushing them down his thighs. “I caught feelings for a person who’s most likely straight and most definitely unattainable. That stupid enough for you?”

Inunaki walks them backwards to the couch, collapsing on top and bringing Atsumu down with him. “Who is it?”

Atsumu eyes him suspiciously as he kicks out of his own sweatpants. “Are you going to tell him if I tell you?”

“Nah. I just wanna know. He has to be pretty cool if he caught your attention. You literally never date anyone.”

A mouth latches onto Atsumu’s neck and he tilts his head for better access. “You’re definitely gonna laugh. It’s Sakusa.”

Inunaki pulls back in incredulity. “Huh? How did that happen?”

Atsumu groans. “Right? The most inconvenient thing ever. But whatever. Now you know. Less talking, more fucking.”

“Got it,” Inunaki whispers and rolls them over.

..

He maybe should have realized he couldn’t hide the evidence of sex from Sakusa. It’s obvious _now_ , but he’s never been one for forethought. His neck and collarbones are littered with hickeys, his lips swollen and bitten. He has bruises all over his body, but those he can at least hide under his clothes. The limp, however…

Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now, knocking on Sakusa’s door. He and Inunaki went at it for a few rounds and it’s already late. He wonders if Sakusa is still up.

Apparently he is, because the door opens and Sakusa stands there, in his casual clothes, looking effortlessly attractive. Atsumu’s heart picks up speed immediately. Fuck, his sex therapy didn’t work, not in the slightest.

Sakusa narrows his eyes at him, looking at him up and down. Atsumu shifts uncomfortably. His ass feels like it’s on fire.

“You had sex.” Sakusa’s tone is flat. It’s not a question.

Atsumu laughs nervously. “Um. Yeah. It’s… We do it sometimes.”

Sakusa doesn’t move to let him in, his eyes trained on the love bites on Atsumu’s neck. Atsumu takes a small step forward, trying to get past him. He winces when his muscles protest painfully.

“Did he hurt you?” Sakusa asks, finally moving aside. Atsumu limps to the couch, flopping down in relief. _Yeah, he hurt me,_ he thinks, _but I liked it._

“Um, no. Not in any way I didn’t want him to.”

Sakusa sits down on the armchair, picking up the book he had apparently been reading earlier. He doesn’t look at the book, however, instead keeps his gaze on Atsumu. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Atsumu snorts and waves his hand. “Nah, he’s not. It’s a friends with benefits type of situation. But you don’t have to worry, we’re safe and all. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

Sakusa turns to his book with a frown. “You’re right. It’s not.”


End file.
